Back to the Labyrinth
by WEWS is back
Summary: In Back to the Labyrinth we pick up some 15 years after Sarah's encounter with the Goblin King. We open as she faces her 30th birthday dissatisfied with her personal and professional life and waging a mental war between the life she wants and the life she once imagined. In an attempt to utilize the advice a wiseman (literally) once gave her - "the way forward is also the way back.
1. Chapter 1

**PROLOGUE**

In Back to the Labyrinth we pick up some 15 years after Sarah's encounter with the Goblin King. We open as she faces her 30th birthday dissatisfied with her personal and professional life and waging a mental war between the life she wants and the life she once imagined. In an attempt to utilize the advice a wiseman (literally) once gave her - "the way forward is also the way back" - she requests a visit from a very important friend from her youth. Much has changed in the labyrinth and much is yet to change as another careless wish stemming from emotion sets Sarah out to make amends which takes her back to the mythical, magical land of her dreams on a journey of self discovery and awareness that prepares her for challenges she never thought she'd face above or under ground. She finds new friends and some old ones and discovers real happiness in them and within herself. As ever, what would a Labyrinth fan fiction be if Jareth didn't make an appearance. He's got some adventuring of his own to do, like navigation his way through New York City without his magic and opening up a heart that's been closed since he watched love cost his parents their lives.

 **CHAPTER ONE - THIRTY**

Sarah Williams let the rich blackness of the room envelope her. No one could see that her simulated smile had melted into a smirk of regret and resentment. For a moment she thought of running out, under the cover of night that had been invited indoors, but she stayed. The coolness of the dark soothed her like a lullaby. Her feet shuffled as her memory played a tune that made her sway secure in the knowledge that she was surrounded by eyes which could not see. A flicker caught her interest, an amber glow comprised of tiny lights organized in a perfectly circular pattern threatening to disrupt her euphoria. She shut her eyes and focused on the music playing in her memory only to find her reverie impregnated by the poorly coordinated and significantly off key collaboration of what were supposed to be talented musicians.

"Happy Birthday, dear Sarah! Happy Birthday to you!" the voices stung more than they rang really and Sarah winced in the glow of the 30 flames thrust beneath her nose.

Christian Standyne, Sarah's companion of three years and former co-star from an off Broadway production of CATS, leaned into her right side and whispered, "Make a wish."

She contemplated the hilarity of a grown man making such a demand as she hung her head and proclaimed, "I don't make wishes," a thought of Toby crossed her mind, "not since I was a very young and foolish girl." Her lips pursed and she exhaled, long, slow, and deliberate. Each of the flames surrendered, as though Sarah squelched them with her proclamation that wishes were not comprised of the magic that gave birthday candles their glow, but rather a senseless endeavor reserved for children or imbeciles.

The lights in the room came up as quickly as the candles on the cake had gone out, as quickly as the last fifteen years had passed. Rich blackness was cruelly replaced by 100 watts of soft white light. Sarah sighed, the light really wasn't soft and it was more yellow than white, truthfully. Life was so polluted by little lies that everyone accepted. She closed her eyes in an effort to make the adjustment easier, but even closed tightly, there was that yellowish green spot still clinging in her vision.

Cheers and whistles filled her ears making her feel obligated to re-open her eyes and don her phony smile once more. Before she had time to read the message on the cake, a knife was thrust into her hand and she was instructed to begin cutting. A second voice urged her to make yet another wish. Sarah felt like screaming. 'Didn't your parents tell you about Santa Claus, didn't they explain the Tooth Fairy and the Easter Bunny? Do you still pick up pennies from the side walk? Do you knock on wood to protect yourself from the evils your own big mouth spits out? Do you still make wishes? And worse yet, do you honestly believe that they come true?' Instead, she cut through the double layer of white cake, covered in white silk frosting and separated by a raspberry filling. "Who wants the first slice?" she inquired.

The last of the goodbyes had been said. The last of the guests had gone. The last of the dishes had been loaded into the dishwasher. Christian pushed a few buttons and turned the dial as it began a barely noticeable cycle, no more than a hum in the background. He drew two mugs from the cabinet above the coffee maker, which had just finished brewing. He filled both of them with bold, black coffee and smiled contentedly to himself as he brought them into the living room. Taking a seat on the couch next to Sarah, he offered her the mug from his left hand. She smiled back weakly, appreciative of the effort, but continuously amazed that Christian failed to remember she preferred tea. Even on the rare occasions when she did drink coffee, she had to deaden its bitterness with copious amounts of milk or cream.

"Did you enjoy your party?"

"Yes Christian," she lied. Perhaps not totally lied. She'd enjoyed the cake. Without the party there'd have been no cake and so to some degree she must have enjoyed the party. Still, it seemed silly having everyone gather around to celebrate an event that made her feel more miserable than anything, but their intent had been good.

Christian smiled at his success in pulling off the surprise and in pleasing Sarah, or so he believed. "There are more surprises in store for you Sarah Williams."

'Dear God. No.' she thought. Anymore surprises like today and she vowed she'd pack up everything precious to her and move away to Siberia. She lifted the mug from her lap to her lips, realizing it was black coffee and praying it would somehow morph into something stronger, like a whiskey sour maybe. Dissatisfied, she swallowed hard, "really?"

Intent hands grabbed the mug from hers and set it on the coffee table. Christian reached passed her to the end table for a remote. He fumbled with remotes for the television, the VCR, the cable box and a host of other electronic what-nots, finally locating the control for the stereo. A few button presses later the sound of Alphaville's 'Forever Young' began to fill the room around them. It was a song Sarah loved, but she couldn't help thinking how drastically inappropriate it was given the feelings about youth welling up inside her. "Forever young, I want to be forever young. Do you really want to live forever, forever?" it mocked. Sarah couldn't help wondering what all this was leading up to.

"Dance with me?" Christian requested as he reached out for her hand.

She gave it to him mindlessly permitting him to help lift her off the couch. With a grin on his lips, he guided her around to an open area that had been intended to be used as a dining room. Instead, the couple had purchased a breakfast table for the kitchen, using the free space for rehearsing scenes. His arms engulfed her waist and pulled her close, in turn, her forearms rested on his shoulders, her fingers mangled in a few strands of wavy blonde hair. 'Christ,' she thought. Even three years Sarah's senior, he looked so young. Even when he allowed his facial hair to grow, it was baby soft and blonde, so blonde it blended with his skin so that it became almost indistinguishable. She wandered, 'People probably wonder if I'm his mother, well, at least an older aunt.'

"Sarah?"

"Yes Christian."

"Are you alright? You seem a million miles away."

In some respect she was. She'd been wallowing in her own self pity, consumed with the thought that growing up was little more than growing old and annoyed with the fact that the world around her had lost its mystery. "I'm sorry. I suppose I'm still overwhelmed from the party," she lied, completely this time.

Her partner smiled again, curling his lips in a way that made him seem cocky. His head bent slightly so that his lips could make a grab for hers. Softly he kissed the woman in his arms and instinctively she reciprocated. Her eyes closed, but rather than leaning into his kiss and using her energies to concentrate on how it felt to taste his mouth with her own, she fell into another day dream. The music in her head conflicted with the music in her ears, making her feel like she was swimming more than dancing. "Though we were strangers till now, we're choosing a path between the stars." a familiar voice sang. She opened her eyes, which met with Christian's immediately. For some reason that wasn't clear to her, things didn't seem right suddenly. This was how teenagers danced. He should have been holding her properly and gliding her about the floor, not pushing her back and forth, his hands resting on her backside as though she hadn't noticed their migration. The music too, was all wrong, and who on earth kissed with their eyes open. She gave Christian a gentle shove back, breaking their kiss. Stumbling back, Christian caught his balance and smiled devilishly down at his girlfriend. "I have something for you," he said, lifting her chin with his left index finger. "Close your eyes."

Sarah complied. There was that damnable music again, making her want to keep her eyes closed and get lost in its gypsy rhythms. "Falling. Falling. Falling." And that voice, this time it wasn't singing. This time it offered her things, promised her dreams, but not for a ordinary girl that takes care of a screaming baby. Her hands reached up almost involuntarily. She gasped.

"Don't jump darling," Christian soothed, placing a small box in her extended hands. "Okay, open your eyes."

Though she was shaken, Sarah managed to fulfill his requests a second time. A fair amount of blinking later, she was able to make out the small box, tooled in red leather, he had placed in her hand. Where had she seen that shade of leather before? She shook it off. "Christian, is this a,"

Before she could complete her inquiry, he interrupted, "Just open it."

Quaking she held the box in the palm of her left hand as she worked its hinged lid with the right. Another series of thoughts streamed though her mind. What would she say? Yes. No. I really need some time to think this over. Or maybe he'd do something terribly romantic. Would he drop to one knee and express his undying love for her, or perhaps, tug at her heart strings with something even more sincere, like his world tumbling down were she to deny him? It all seemed very unlike Christian to do any of those things. For all the effort she was putting into lifting that lid, it may as well have been a giant, wooden, castle door on old, rusted, metal hinges. Then with a creak and a snap, the lid was perpendicular to its base and between two red velvet folds, sat a golden band, filigree, with a green gem chip glittering back at her.

The smile on Christian's face parted as he pointed out, "It's just like your mother's. The one you're always regretting having given away."

"My mother's ring had a red gem."

"Red, green, what's the big deal?" The wicked smirk from earlier was making a repeat performance. He was actually proud, proud that he'd screwed it up. "Honestly Sarah, I get so tired of trying to live up to your expectations of me."

Where had she heard that before? "It's lovely Christian. Thank you." Sarah struggled with the words, trying not to sound ungrateful or to reveal that she thought this box might have contained a little something else. Something more along the lines of a diamond. After all, they'd spent three years together, one and a half of them in the same apartment, the same bed. What was she supposed to think? That they'd just go steady and maybe some day she'd get to wear his letterman's jacket?

Almost brutally, he forced the ring over the second knuckle of the ring finger on her right hand. It didn't seem to fit quite so uncomfortably once it made it passed her knuckle. He reached for her again, pulling her to him. His mouth covered hers before she could object. Anxious fingers worked at the zipper on the back of her dress as he moaned her name almost breathlessly, "Come on, let's do it." A few more desperate clicks of the remote and the stereo sputtered off. Christian led her to their bedroom, removing his shirt in route.

It would be just like any other time they'd 'done it', though it had been much less frequent recently. The lights would go out, Christian would do all those things to her body and his own which he'd deemed satisfying. Sarah, instead, would fantasize about all those things that brought her pleasure. A bit of arching and gratuitous cries of praise, then she'd wait out his orgasm and her obligations would be complete until the next time. The sexual relationship shared between them was less than fulfilling, but there were other things, things that made Christian a good catch, even if Sarah couldn't think of any of them right now. Right now, Sarah couldn't think of anything.

2:13am. Blue lights formed the digits just inches from Sarah's eyes. All the clocks she owned were digital display: the alarm clock, the stereo, the microwave, even her watch. Clock faces bothered her. She'd never told anyone why. In the dark, Sarah was entranced by the numbers. The way they joined at perfectly fit together corners, but still seemed rounded. "But that can't be." She whispered.

"Sometimes things are not always as they seem," a voice in her head commented.

Glancing over at Christian, who was still asleep, Sarah couldn't help but wonder what she had let become of her life. Straight out of high school, she'd left the home she shared with her father, step-mother and half-brother to attend Julliard, in the hopes of following in her mother's footsteps. She wanted to become a star, maybe fall in love with one of her male leads and have him whisk her away, the same way Linda had been led away from home and family. Led by a man who knew how to use romance like a lethal weapon. Somewhere along the way Sarah had managed to fall for the first understudy she'd ever seen make it to stage on an opening night. Those fleeting three seconds of charm that existed in Christian came to his surface at just the right time and disappeared all too fast. Still, she stayed with him. Maybe she hoped he would change. Maybe it was just better than being alone.

An absent finger trolled through the locks of his hair, pushing them back from his eyes. Sometimes she could still find that charm when he was sleeping, but morning would come and his mouth would open up putting a quick end to any of the warm feelings which may have remained for him. He put a certain bind on her in many respects. Their friends were his friends. What had once been her friends, had abandoned her when despite their advice, she moved in with him anyway. No longer did Sarah audition for the lead roles, the challenging parts she knew she could bring to life, because Christian didn't find it appropriate that a woman be more prominent financially than her mate. He was unadventurous with art, with food, with travel and especially with sex. For Sarah this meant that what had once been the creative open mind of an artist was rapidly becoming the cynical, sarcastic soul of a slave.

She'd dated, after a little provocation from her stepmother, but really this had been her first long-term, adult, if you could use that word in connection with Christian, relationship. No, that's not true. Once long ago, in a realm she'd invented in her mind, she had been loved by another man. Pity was she was too young to return his love then. Now, at this age, such dreams could not sustain her. Yet Sarah never found someone who had intrigued her as much as he had, who both frightened and excited her. Then again, in many ways, the man of her fantasies was much like Christian. He loved in his own kind of way. He wanted to control. He wanted to possess, even if his emotions were real and his intentions good. Maybe that's why she stayed with this man who lie beside her, for that faint reminder.

Releasing a heavy sigh, the defeated actress threw back the blankets and slid her feet into the slippers which waited for her on the floor. She plucked her robe from the back of the door and slid her naked body inside, tying the belt. The silk was cold on her body, but warmer than that bed had seemed only hours earlier. Quietly as she could, she opened the top right drawer of her old dressing table. She'd kept it when she had left home. She was only 18 and wanted something familiar around her. No, that wasn't entirely true. As a girl she would summon her imaginary friends in the looking glass, they would come and comfort her in times of trouble or loneliness. They were more reliable than any of her friends from school and certainly more considerate than her parents. The dressing table no longer matched any of her furniture making it all the more special. For Sarah no longer felt as though she matched her surroundings either. Her small hands wrapped around something inside the drawer and drew it out fluidly, quickly shoving the object deep in the pocket of her robe. One last turn to assure that Christian remained asleep and she slipped out of the bedroom they shared. Well, that she had wanted them to share, but it never really felt that way.

Early fall had brought the full moon with it, casting silver light into the room. Sarah followed a metallic beam to the sofa and settled into the far corner, an end table supporting a small lamp was at her back. She reached around and gave the knob two quick snaps until light shone over her shoulders. Still chilly, she pulled the throw from the back of the sofa over her legs, brought her knees to her chest and dug in her pocket for the item she had placed there only moments earlier. Her fingers ran over the red leather, tracing the Celtic knots which formed a border around the edge of the book, Labyrinth.

"This is ridiculous," she said to no one, tossing the book onto the coffee table at her side. It was nothing more than an adolescent fantasy. A way for her to escape her home, escape herself, to find magic and romance. Instead, she'd learned that you couldn't run, not from others, not from yourself. She learned to stand strong, pick her battles, ripple the water only when it was necessary. Magic and romance were tricks of light, simple words repeated in the appropriate sequence. Most of the time without any feeling behind them. After all, words were meager, anyone could say them. They could fall from lips as rain from the sky. Often going unnoticed or unappreciated.

Frustrated, she reached for the remote, using it to bring the television to life. Fruitlessly she scanned for something, anything that would even briefly hold her attention. To her great dismay, she found nothing. Nothing that is to say that intrigued her more than the four by five red leather novelette which shown murky black in the basking of lights which randomly changed intensity as they radiated from the television set. She grabbed at it, sighing heavily at her own childishness.

After all, it had been a dream. Hadn't it? A day dream, in the night time? Then a nightmare. But somehow, she didn't remember being frightened, not the entire time anyway. She remembered Ludo and Didymus, and of course Hoggle. Much as it frustrated her, she remembered Jareth too, cruel as he was. He and his mismatched eyes managed to penetrate and seed themselves into her memory. Could anybody dream so vividly? Dream well enough that she could recall the awful smell from the bog of stench. That she could remember the taste of a magic peach so clearly it had turned her from the fruit entirely. That her body would sometimes recollect Jareth's arms encircling her waist. That her mind was still mesmerized by the fluid movements of his hands as they manipulated the spinning crystals before her eyes. It was a dream she decided, one she fed with her imagination, but it had seemed so damned real.

Frantically, she began to flip the pages of the book. If it was real, then she'd find a way to conjure them again. Some way to prove these impossible notions could be tactile. But how? She had no child to wish away. She tried a string of magic words from her childhood. Hocus pocus. Abracadabra. Alacazam. "For Christ's sake I need help," she decided, running one hand through her thick dark hair, which she'd kept long, even all these years later. She found she could do more with it when it was long. Made her more versatile when it came to the stage and increased the number of roles available to her. The Goblin King had liked it long, she thought. When he had dressed her for their masquerade he had left it long, pulled up at the sides giving it a little more fullness and body, but it had still hung down her back. In fact, she swore she'd felt him rest his glove covered fingers in the strands. "I really do need help."

Her memory was working overtime. Help. In the Labyrinth, Sarah had been helped by so many new friends, but none who risked as much as Hoggle. She glanced around the room. "What the hell?" Sarah conceded. No one was there to see her acting foolish. If only she could remember how she had called them as a child. "I wish," it had been so long since her mouth had used that word, it almost seemed wrong, at least foreign, "I wish I could see Hoggle."

Sarah's eyes closed tight. Afraid the tunic topped, leather head cap wearing dwarf would really appear before her. Seconds later, she opened her eyes and to her relief, or perhaps disappointment, she remained alone. "Rubbish!" Feeling moronic, she cast the book down again. "I was a child the last time I let my overactive imagination run away with me like this. I sat before that mirror in my room each time my step-mother had inflicted another of her emotional wounds on me. I'd read that book three hundred times and to a fifteen year old girl who wanted nothing more than to escape reality, it became reality. Then when I found myself wishing that I could relive some adventure I had never lived in the first place, I would peer into the glass and say, 'I need you Hoggle.'" Sarah's hand caught her head as it toppled over forward, the palms grinding at her tired, but not sleepy eyes. "I even talked to the little thing. Oh, why didn't my father have me locked up?"

"I resent that now. You said we was friends."

At first Sarah's head didn't move from its folded over position. She stayed there tucked in a ball trying to ignore what she had heard.

"Sarah?" A small and tender voice continued. "Are you alright? You haven't called on me in a long time you know."

It seemed to take hours, but Sarah managed to straighten her neck and raise her head to meet the big blue eyes that stared intently at her. She reached forward for his shoulders. "Hoggle?" Her hands tightened on his body. "You're real."

"I am." He was still wearing a mixture of hurt and confusion in his face. "As real as I have always been."

Hoggle found himself pulled to Sarah's chest. Her long arms folding around him in a warm embrace. Tears filled her eyes and emotion choked up in her throat. "Hoggle," she repeated. "I'm sorry, so sorry that I haven't kept in better touch."

The dwarf tried to speak to her, but her grasp was tight. Upon hearing him choke, she released him and he stood back, straightening his cap and vest. "S'got nothin' to do with keepin' in touch and you know it as well as I do. You gave up your dreams, your wishes. You stopped believin' in magic." He rolled his eyes and snorted, crossing his arms around his chest defensively.

"I...I didn't want...I didn't mean..."

"Save your excuses. I'd have paid you a visit on my own if I coulda." Hoggle released his posture some, beginning to feel somewhat responsible for the break in their relationship. "There's no taxi out of the Underground you know. I needed you to believe in magic. It was my only way to you."

"What about the mirror?" she asked.

"The mirror," Hoggle waved his hand as if to say the object were useless. "The mirror was an easy way to explain magic to a child without having to explain anything at all. The real magic's in you Sarah." He pointed at her, "Always has been."

Sarah's eyes were no longer strong enough to hold back the tears she'd been damming up inside them. Freely, they fell down her cheeks, ran over her chin. She tried to wipe them away, but her hands were too slow to keep up. Hoggle plucked a tissue from the box on the table and passed it to her. "I'm more sorry than I can tell you, honestly, I am"

Anger was not what he wanted to share with his friend after all these years. His chubby fingers and stalky legs worked together desperately to scuttle up on the couch next to the hysterical Sarah. As he brought her head to his shoulder, he ran his hands over her hair smoothing it. "It's all right then," Hoggle said. "I forgive you."

"I thought I was losing my mind, that I'd imagined everything," she confessed.

"I can see why you might have wanted to Sarah. It wasn't all that pleasant an experience for you." Hoggle looked away remembering how Jareth had forced him to give her that peach.

"Nonsense!" Sarah said, perhaps a bit too loud and eagerly. She moved in closer to Hoggle and lowered her voice. "Nonsense. I made so many great friends while I was there. Ludo and Didymus. Ambrosious and that charming little worm with the English accent."

He smiled at her. For the first time since he'd arrived, he was just now noticing how beautiful she had become. Something in her eyes was electric and curious. She had grown, from a selfish, thoughtless child into a loving young woman whose emotions were so easily read. He'd bet they were as easily hurt. Knowing her as he had, he felt confident that someone had been responsible for quenching her magic and quelling her belief. The Sarah he had known would have kept those two things too sacred to be destroyed.

He wanted to tell her so much, about her friends, about the Underground, but he decided that he was too uncertain what she'd want to know and what would only serve to upset her more. He knew one thing undoubtedly. There was a bit of news he needed to deliver now, something he had waited so long to tell her and Hoggle was afraid this might be his only opportunity. "Speaking of your friends, I've got someone to introduce you to." Sarah sat up straighter, eager for him to continue. He dug in the pocket of his pants and produced a worn leather wallet stitched out of scraps. Opening its folds, he revealed a picture of a woman dwarf who held a child in her arms. The child wore a long off white gown.

Needless to say he had peaked her curiosity by exposing the photograph. There was something familiar in the infant's face. "Hoggle, is that your baby?"

Hoggle nodded, a wide grin of pride making all his teeth show as water welled in his eyes.

"When did you get married?" Sarah cocked an eyebrow at her confidant, but beneath her smile there was a sadness. Hoggle had saved her in the Labyrinth many times. Freed her from the oubliette, rescued her from the fire gang, did his best to get her to the castle so she could rescue her baby brother. Now he was a husband, a father and she hadn't been there for any of it. Instead, she'd forgotten everything he'd meant to her and went along with her own life and her own priorities which hadn't brought her a fraction of the joy she felt now, holding this picture in her hands and seeing the look on his face.

Lying his head on his shoulder, Hoggle ground his toes into the air, like a small child who was embarrassed to admit to something. "I am 243, you know. Figured it was bout time I let some pretty girl settle me down." His finger pointed to the woman in the photograph, "That's my wife, Drema, and that's my daughter," he said. He paused until he could catch Sarah's gaze and then repeated, "my daughter Sarah."

Confusion swept her face and she looked on, unsure if he was referring to her or the child. Then something in the way his eyes softened, confirmed it for her. "After me?"

"Who else? Sarah ain't much of an Underground name you know." Realizing that he had sounded a bit harsh he went on, "You were my first friend, Sarah. I was proud for my girl to share your name. Drema agreed too. She's wanted to meet you for years."

"Oh yes, Hoggle. I would love to meet your wife." She folded the wallet in her hand and passed it back to her friend, "and your daughter."

The dwarf's expression grew solemn. "That's sweet, but it'll never happen."

Hurt, feeling like he doubted her promise, Sarah said, as sincerely as she could, "No Hoggle. I mean it. Now that I've remembered what to say. Now that you've allowed me to believe again, you can bring Drema with you... and little Sarah."

"So much you don't understand about your magic Sarah" His head wagged back and forth.

"What do you mean?"

"You don't need Drema." Emphasizing the word need, Hoggle continued, "You can only summon those of us you swore you needed. The words spoken outside the castle that day, theys the same as casting a spell. Means you can only call on those of us inside the Labyrinth you vowed to that day."

It seemed simple and difficult at the same time. "So then I'll just go to the Underground."

"You can't, not without a crystal."

"So bring me a crystal."

Hoggle grunted in frustration, "Jareth would soon as cut my arm off and make me bob it out of the bog of stench if he knew I stoled one of his crystals, 'specially for you."

Jareth. The name made something click in Sarah's head. It had been his mysterious voice singing to her earlier this night. His grasp she had longed for as she danced with Christian. His finesse on the dance floor she'd been recalling. "So have him summon me to the Underground," she said smugly. She had defeated him once, now she was older, stronger and she could defeat him again.

The far away look in her eyes did not go unnoticed. From a pouch on his hip he produced a steaming hot cup of tea. "Drink this Sarah. You'll feel better."

Weeping eyes looked at him. Someone she had known for so little time and had neglected for so long and he knew her preferences. Sarah accepted the beverage and meant to say thank you, but the sobs that had begun again prevented her from being as courteous as she might have liked.

"Oh please Sarah, don't cry. I can't stands to see a girl cry. How a'my gonna describe you to Drema when I get home and can't even tell her the color of your eyes? Why she'll think I'm makin' excuses to go out and spray for those damn fairies again."

She sipped at the tea. Suddenly the memory of how they first met came flooding back to Sarah forcing a smile. Hoggle had been just outside the door to the Labyrinth. He looked up at her and announced very matter-of-factly, 'Oh it's you.' Like he had somehow anticipated her arrival. The more she tried to recall the more her smile grew. Sarah always loved to act and she had often acted out the Labyrinth, but in the Labyrinth she was no longer a character brought to life, quite the contrary, she felt herself. It was more than she could say about life here with Christian. Sometimes she felt as though she hadn't left the stage in days. Her eyes started to go grey again and her smile faded.

Hoggle jumped down from the couch. A wave of his hand made the tea cup disappear from Sarah's grip and he pulled one of her hands into his own. "Jareth can't summon you back to the Labyrinth and don't bother asking me why either."

As Hoggle spoke, Sarah repositioned herself on the sofa with a yawn. For a moment, worry crossed her face. Things seemed to dance, just like when she'd eaten the peach. Sensing this Hoggle reassured her, "It's just the chamomile I put in yer tea. You need to sleep, you need to dream, to reignite yer magic and strengthen yer belief." He pulled the blanket closer to her shoulder. "I'll be back, my friend, any time you need me."

"What do you mean reignite my magic?"

The dwarf crossed his arms over his chest and huffed a bit, "You've forgotten so much already." He handed her the open book, a stumpy finger pointed to one of the first lines, "What's it say right there?"

Slowly Sarah repeated the line, "But what no one knew was that the King of the Goblins had fallen in love with the girl and he had given her certain powers."

"You've got magic in you Sarah, always have. You just haven't learned to use it's all."

"Can you teach me?"

Hoggle smiled gently at her, bringing the blanket up to her ears. "Not tonight. Tonight you need to rest. Now stop fighting the tea. I ain't singin' any lullabies, either."

"Thank you Hoggle."

He turned off the television and lamp before preparing to leave.

"Goodnight Hoggle." Sarah whispered, a sleepy haze taking her over.

"Goodnight Sarah," Hoggle replied as his lips moved in to place a gentle peck on her forehead, "Sweet dreams."


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER TWO - THE GOBLIN KING**

"It's always the same," he shouted. Even if for the Goblin King a shout was no louder than his usual low growl.

The girl before him trembled. "You're him aren't you? You're the Goblin King, I'd like my sister back if it's all the same to you..."

Jareth failed to see the purpose, or the function, in allowing her to continue. "If you want the child back you'll need to make it through my Labyrinth." A smooth gesture of his arm and just outside what had been her bedroom window, materialized a vast expanse. High walls comprising acres of mazes and at the center stood an enormous castle.

She began to cry. "Please, I didn't mean what I said, I was just upset for that moment."

"Tra la la," he sang out. "It was just for that moment," he mocked. Closing in on her, the verbal assault continued. "When will you children learn that your words have consequences, constantly assuming you can allow all sorts of drivel to pass your lips and never be held accountable for anything that's said in a moment of passion." He spun his back to her, the symbolic grandfather clock making its appearance at his side. "You have twelve hours," he warned, as the hands rewound themselves. Never again would the Goblin King be so generous as to offer a thirteenth hour. His days of reordering time were through.

"What happens if I fail?" she pleaded.

Jareth's face grew smug, "When you fail," he emphasized the when, "your sister will become one of us and I'll have another goblin to add to my collection."

"My parents have money." So much had been lost already, what would a little bribery hurt. "Mother has jewels, daddy has any of four cars that you could choose from...stocks...bonds."

"Do you really think I need money?" the Goblin King laughed. "I'm a king, I have jewels and riches of my own in multitudes that could make your parents blind with jealousy and greed."

Slowly, she reached for him. Though he didn't move away, he didn't seemed pleased either. Her hands ran up the length of his arm, feeling through the loose fitting fabric for the lightly defined arm beneath. "Perhaps then you and I could," she wet her lips, "work out a bit of an arrangement." One eyebrow cocked with curiosity.

"Really," the Goblin King nearly purred. His gloved hands reached around her waist and jerked her roughly to him. "You honestly think that someone so young and obviously inexperienced could satisfy a king." His lips came crashing down on hers in a way that both terrified and intrigued her. She was sweet 16 and had never been kissed, not like this anyway. Tossing her aside in disgust he spat, "Don't waste your time. Better than you have tried and failed." He pulled the back of his gloved hand across his mouth as though he were trying to wipe it free of the taste of her. "Save yourself the humiliation and stay here to play with your dolls, child." Having said his piece he turned to the window and with a wave of his coat, changed into his owl form and left the girl to stare at the lifeless valley separating her from the Labyrinth, a heavy decision to weigh in her mind.

Alone in his bed chamber, Jareth had changed back into his fey shape. His skin shown with perspiration, not all of it entirely from the flight back his castle. He conjured a crystal in his right hand and held it before him. It spun effortlessly in his palm and slowly the fog parted to reveal the face of the teen girl he'd left only moments earlier. She was sitting on the edge of her parents' bed, still staring at the empty crib. Her eyes overflowed with tears. A weak voice mustered itself up between sobs, "How ? I can't do this. I can't be expected to take care of a child let alone hunt through some psychopath's labyrinth trying to get the thing back!"

Jareth let out a snort, "Perhaps little girls who feel incapable of caring for small children, ought not kiss grown men the way you do, my dear."

"It's not fair," he heard the girl cry. It drew his attention quickly, "My father's going to kill me!"

The crystal orb shattered against the far wall of his chamber as Jareth released his pent up frustration. "For the love of Christ! This ones not even going to try." It had been 15 years since the Goblin King had been given any kind of challenge. Since then, the boys and girls who had met with him as a result of their haphazard wishes weren't much of an obstacle, let alone anything to really worry oneself over. But, he had been beaten once. It would have taken a lot to impress him after that. Perhaps if someone had charged passed him once, as he was explaining the rules of his little game, and started into the maze, eyes blazing, determined to finish him off despite his threats. That may have done it, but most probably not. It didn't matter how ambitious anyone seemed or how much of their fear they were able to hide. None who summoned the Goblin King would ever be Sarah Williams. She had been the first to defeat him. Treating his Labyrinth as as her classroom, her place to learn and grow, each obstacle he presented her with became another small victory in their little war. More than that, she had been the first to capture his eye and perhaps even his heart.

Another crystal materialized from the air. It had been a number of years since Jareth used his magic to spy on Sarah. Right after she solved the Labyrinth, he could recollect a half dozen or so times that he'd done what he was doing now, but over time, Jareth felt it become an addiction. He'd find himself looking in on her two, three, four times a week, until it was nearly an hourly thing throughout the day. Though she had bruised his will, she hadn't broken him entirely. The Goblin King still had some strength left and so he began the process of hardening his heart towards her. By the time she was twenty-one, she was little more to him than the young girl who'd gotten lucky enough to choose wisely during her stay. By her twenty-fifth year, he commonly referred to her as the insolent nuisance whose consequences he would be forced to deal with for all of eternity.

Then there was Christian. Jareth had peered in on Sarah in the Spring three years ago. He had gotten word from some of his Aboveground connections that Sarah had taken to acting and was to take part in a major production. Something in the message must of been misunderstood, perhaps the date or the time, for when Jareth gazed into the crystal he had been given an eyeful of one of Sarah's performances, unfortunately it was an off-stage scene with an adult rating and Christian was the co-star. That was the last time the king could remember throwing one of his crystals against the wall. Until today that is. She'd obviously found someone else who offered her promises she was ready to accept. She'd been painted a picture of a future she wanted. "Have him then," he had shouted. "Someday when your child is born, I shall take my vengeance on it and while it may not be as sweet as what I sought for you my darling, it will bring me indescribable satisfaction." It had also been the last time he'd dared to look in on the child that vexed him so deeply he found it almost painful. Last time that is to say, until now.

It was the same apartment where he'd found her before, only she seemed to have grown more beautiful since he last intruded on her this way. Mortals claimed that only men got better looking with age, but Jareth found the object of his attentions seemed to age as gracefully as she danced. For a moment he paused in his observation to reflect on a time he'd caught her dancing in her room. She was alone, couldn't have been more than seventeen, swaying side to side, eyes closed tightly as an enchanting melody hummed over her lips. Similarly, he'd found her alone again this night. There was no dancing, no music. Sarah merely slept peacefully on an overstuffed settee. Her long black hair now rippling over her shoulders in thick wide waves, framing her sleeping head like a royal mane. Her skin still held much of its youthful appearance, a radiant glow with just a hint of creamy bronze kissed on her cheeks, giving the illusion that she was always just a little flushed. With a heavy sigh, Jareth caused the crystal to vanish.

"Curse the little brat," Jareth erupted. "She nearly had me going all soft on her again. Don't know what made me even give a damn how she was." Then more softly he mumbled, "Not as though she's ever thought of me since then." His tired eyes surveyed the room surrounding him. Today had lasted long enough for the weary Goblin King.

The room was lit by two crystal chandeliers and a dozen large pedestals holding multiple wicked candles. The walls were drenched in a rich Cabernet, the stone sills covered by a decadent black velvet which kept out both sun and moonlight, permitting him sleep whenever he felt it was necessary. He stood in the sunken sitting area where there was little more than a chair and ottoman covered in a forest green leather that had a marble finish to it. They faced a matching settee. The common space between those pieces divided by an oriental throw carpet and an old traveling chest, which he'd decided to use as a table. The focal point of this area, a huge fireplace with a thick mantle which held an array of candles and a five by seven portrait.

Jareth's boots beat evenly off the marble floor as he made his way to the stairs. It was two steps to the upper deck of the room where a wardrobe and a highboy held the king's garments. A full length mirror separated the two and provided him the perfect spot for eyeing his appearance from head to toe. On the far wall there was a dressing table and stool next to a large mahogany door which led to a master bath. Jareth paused a moment to gaze at his reflection. He'd filled out some since the last decade, shoulders had broadened a bit and his mid-section carried a newly acquired dozen or so pounds, but he was still far from out of shape. Being in ones 100s wasn't easy he decided, giving a wave of his arm, causing his reflection to disappear.

A four poster bed monopolized most of the floor space on the upper deck of the room. It raised another two steps above the rest of the deck. Three more small steps up to the mattress from the raised platform. It was truly fit for a king. The balusters which rose from each of the four corners of the frame were intricately carved with an array of Celtic knots. The foot board too was carved, but rather than continue the Celtic design, it depicted a waterfall scene surrounded by lush vegetation and fairies at play or perhaps mischief. For fairies, they were much the same. All the carvings were impressive, but none so much as the headboard. Between the black velvet and the crimson silk which covered the pillows of the bed was a two foot block of the same mahogany used to create all the other furniture of the room. A dream catcher was cut into the center. Braided threads roped through the opening. Leather cord was fed through tiny tunnels which formed the circular boundary of the catcher. Two stark white owl feathers were attached to each end with hand drilled clay beads. The remainder of the wood was embellished with star markings, some even replicating constellations. Though it served merely to rest a heavy head, it was a work of art. The sheets were made of the same crimson silk as the pillows. The comforter was black velvet as were some of the decorative pillows. With amenities like these, the Goblin King rarely counted sheep or relied on warm milk. He merely enveloped himself in the layers of luxurious fabrics and found himself asleep in no time. Usually.

Tonight; however, it seemed as though he'd never sleep again. So many thoughts ran around in his mind. Thoughts of the new baby he'd have to contend with, thoughts of Sarah and perhaps the hardest to cope with, thoughts about himself and his own inadequacies. Jareth fought back all those related to that last category, after all he was king. "A bath before I retire," he decided. The door to the master bath opened slowly on its own.

This room was as impressive as the one he had just left. Grey marble floors spread out to meet black walls speckled with silver flecks, it was almost like being out doors. Small torch-like sconces lit the room with a subtle warm glow. In the center of the furthest wall were more of the familiar black velvet curtains and gold braided ropes, which hid the commode and wash sink. To either side of the curtain stood a statue, each abstract in nature and reminiscent of the Escher room, where he and Sarah had said their final words to one another. Jareth sighed again. With a wave of his arm, the sunken tub before him filled with steaming water. Jareth shed his clothes, simply sending them away as they left his hands. His boots stood as a pair by the door. The Goblin King sunk into the tub, water covering him to the neck. He closed his eyes. 'There had been days like this before,' he thought. 'Days that had come to pass and would again, soon.'

Feeling more relaxed already, Jareth's head fell back to rest against the cool tile. The contradicting sensations thrilled him. He began to hum an enchanting melody. "Why do I know that song?" he asked out loud as the room about him began to dance.

Outside the castle walls, the kingdom was filled with activity. The goblins who had taken the newest child were rushing her to the throne room. This was cause for celebration. One of the larger, more coordinated goblins was given the task of carrying the child, who wore only a soft pink bunting. She did not cry, nor did she appear to find any of this the least bit distressing. In fact, she giggled several times when some of the more comedic in the group would dance passed her. Through the dirt roads of the reconstructed Goblin City they danced and sang. "You remind me of the babe" one began.

"What babe?" another played along.

A third, not wishing to be left behind continued, "The babe with the power."

Beyond one of the labyrinth walls sulked a heartsick beast. His head raised as the singing got nearer, "Sar - rah?" he moaned. "Ludo miss Sar - rah?"

By his side, a regal fox mounted atop a shaggy sheep dog. "Say again dear brother? Whyst does thou speak of my beloved lady Sarah?"

A mighty paw reached down and raised him from his saddle, lifting him to where he could hear the goblins' song. Once Ludo saw Sir Didymus's face wash over with recognition, he lowered his brother in arms back to his mount. "That music's not been sung since milady made her stay," Didymus noted. "Ludo miss Sar - rah"

"As do I brother, as do I."

The goblins continued their song right up to the castle gate. Two larger goblins hoisted a third smaller species by the knees and elbows. Using his spiked helmet they repeatedly bolted him into the doors in an effort to attract the attention of their king. In this they succeeded, but perhaps not wisely. Jareth shot from his tub. A snap of his fingers had him dry, dressed and looking as royal as any other day. His head jutted from one of the windows in his chamber. Keen ears picked up the music on the wind. A growl came from his throat as he used his magic to slide back the draw bar and allow the hoard to gain access to the main courtyard. By this time, their song had looped. "You remind me of the babe."

"What babe?"

"The babe with the power."

'A goblin babe,' Jareth had sung to a candy stripped pajama clad baby, in the heart of his throne room so long ago. The memory now suddenly evident. The nagging familiarity of the melody which had plagued him suddenly obvious. In as loud a voice as he could muster Jareth ordered, "QUIET!", from his chamber window. All but one of the goblins stood deadly still under the watchful eye of their majesty.

"Slime and snails," that foolish goblin sung on, "and puppy dog's tails." The king pulled a crystal from the tattered bell sleeve of his white shirt and cast it at the half-witted creature whose mouth continued to disobey his direct order. Before the captivated eyes of the halted on-lookers, the crystal transformed into a silver lightning bolt. Jareth rode the bolt from his chambers toward the ground, quickly taking leave from the contraption just before it struck the mouthy goblin. Dazed the goblin's smoking body stumbled back and forth for a few seconds before he toppled to the ground.

"You'll sing only when and if I allow it." Jareth scathed at them. At his outburst the child began to cry. "Bring the child forward," he commanded. The goblin who had been holding the child, stepped forward to kneel before the king. As he did, he raised the child up as though it was an offering. Jareth lifted the child into his arms effortlessly. Her chubby fingers reached out for his face. In an attempt to avoid her touch, the king pulled back his head. The pink bunting looked quite bright against the black leather of his waist coat, which in turn matched the black of his pants and finally those matched his riding boots. Despite his attempts to escape her reach, the baby made a desperate lunge for Jareth's nose and succeeded in catching it by the end.

"Your majesty?" one goblin inquired. Eyebrows raised in his direction. "In less than nine hours, the child will become ours. Is this not cause for celebration?"

Eyes narrowed, the reply practically spat back, "We've celebrated the first 4,081 children that were inducted into our kingdom. I see no reason to continue with these ridiculous formalities." He rose the child into the air, studying her thoroughly. "When the time is complete, should the child's sibling fail to reach my castle and defeat me, you may request the Triumvirate christen her Gossamyr."

"Gossamyr, your majesty?" One of the goblins repeated the command.

"As I said, Gossamyr, for the child is light and would likely make a good wood sprite or water nymph," the king explained.

Another goblin questioned, "But your highness, will you not make the request of the Triumvirate yourself?"

"The Triumvirate will not miss my presence. In fact, I think they'd rather welcome my absence." He set the baby back in the arms of the goblin before him. "Now then, you have my instructions. Go about your business and send me the dwarf."

"Which dwarf my king?" asked the goblin who had received the child.

Another replied, "Hog Brain."

"No," another cried, "Higgle."

"Hog's Breath," offered a third.

"Hoggle!" Jareth said clearly. "Send me Hoggle!"

Feet kicked up on his desk, Jareth waited in what served as both an office and a library. If he was to ask anyone in the kingdom about Sarah Williams, Hoggle would be the one to ask. What was taking him so bloody long? The Goblin King began to tap his crop against the desk impatiently. Everyone was so determined to keep him from getting any rest tonight. Slowly he opened the slender drawer in the center of his desk, withdrawing a pen-sized flute. Lifting the instrument to his lips he produced four high notes as his fingers frolicked over the tone holes. Upon hearing the notes, a house elf entered through a service entrance built in to appear as though it were a part of the wall. She curtsied graciously before her sire. "How might I be of service, sir?" She asked, never meeting directly with his eyes.

"I've requested the company of a certain dwarf," Jareth explained, indicating that she was permitted to rise from the floor before him. "Where is he?"

The elf straighten the light blue shift which covered her pale narrow frame. Pushing back the mid-length blond strands which interrupted her vision, she replied. "The kingdom has been searched your highness. Even his wife has been questioned."

Impatiently, he interrupted her, "Hogwart has a wife!"

"Hoggle's wife said her husband had left earlier this eve to tend to wood for their fire and has yet to return." Uncomfortably, she shifted her weight from foot to foot waiting for the king's inevitable disappointment.

"Unacceptable!" Her expectations had been met. Emotions were easy to read on the face of a fey. "I want him found immediately!" Just as the last of the sentence's syllables were rolling off of Jareth's tongue, Hoggle gently pushed open the double doors to the king's office. His brazen entrance demanding all of the king's attention.

"I was told you were lookin' for me, yer Majesty."

"Indeed," he purred. His hand waved to the house elf. "That's all Arulan. You may go." Though he was addressing his servant, his eyes never left the dwarf who stood in his doorway. "Come in Hedge Hog."

"It's Hoggle," his fists balled up at his sides. It had been years of being in Jareth's employ and you'd have thought he could've remembered his name by now.

"Have a seat." The doors behind the dwarf shut with a loud thud, sending him scurrying towards the semicircular Louis the XIV. A few grunts and flailing limbs and he was situated, opposite the king, unnerved by the way he was being looked over. "When did you last have contact with the mortal?"

"Which mortal?"

Jareth strode around the desk and lifting his long leg to a ninety degree angle, he sat upon the desk and peered down at the terrified dwarf. "Don't play with me Hoggle, or I shall suspend you above the bog of eternal stench." A hard gulp could be heard. "Along with your wife." Wide eyes began to narrow, as he leapt down from the chair and wagged a fat finger in Jareth's face.

"You leave my wife alone. She ain't never done nothin' to no one, 'specially you."

Though he admired the display, Jareth laughed at the threat presented to him, "Just tell me when you last spoke to the her."

It was fruitless. Jareth could out threaten Hoggle easily and he wasn't above misusing anyone to get what he wanted. Even Hoggle's unusual strength and glamour magic couldn't compare to what the king was capable of. Even when he had done it so many times before, it still made his insides quiver, "Just this night," he admitted, betraying his friend once more.

"When this night? What was said between you?" Jareth steamed with a healthy mix of jealousy and anger.

"Moments ago." Hoggle took his seat once more, not believing he would be excused anytime soon. "As for what was said, it ain't none of your business. It was all private, bout me and my family."

In an effort to offend him, Jareth made clear, "I don't wish to hear any details of your personal life. Bad enough my servant saw fit to inform me that you've wed. Let us rest it there. Tell me what of Sarah's state of affairs? Is she..." he hesitated, even softened a little, "well?"

Arms crossed, Hoggle questioned the intentions of the man who'd never shown the lady's best interests to be much of his concern, "Whatta you care?"

Perhaps it was the rest he'd been repeatedly denied or a moment of weakness. "I care is all. I keep getting distracted with things that remind me of her and it's, well it's annoying." Realizing Hoggle had now witnessed a side of Jareth he'd intended to remain private, he burst forth in more typical fashion, "Just tell me, is she well?"

Stunned by the revelation, Hoggle offered forth more information. "Her body is well, her heart and mind are a story all their own." He looked into the king's mismatched eyes, nearly positive the left one was holding back a tear. One thing was unmistakable; more questions would be asked and perhaps it was best if Hoggle just offer up the information rather than make Jareth dig. "Lady Sarah has forgotten her magic, your majesty. No longer does she believe in the power of wishes. Only by accident did she call upon yours truly." Even if it was an accident, Hoggle still held great pride in the fact that he'd been chosen to be called upon. "Sarah had come to think we were all just imaginary childhood friends."

The Goblin King's face was full of sadness. Although he had come to terms with the idea that Sarah was not able to return his love, to be thought of as imaginary, to have himself swept from her consciousness was unbearable. Part of him cursed her for being ungrateful. Another part envied the fact that she could so easily rid him from her memory as he had tried so many times to do with her. "And your presence in her world, was this enough to convince her that what she lived through here was real?"

It was as though he needed the answer to be yes. "I can only hope. When I left she was asleep. Poor thing was exhausted. Maybe she'll wake up tomorrow thinking it was a dream, but I hope not."

For the first time in all the hundreds of years they'd shared the kingdom, Jareth and Hoggle agreed. "Her heart," Jareth said weakly, returning to drape himself across his leather high back chair. "You said something was wrong with her heart."

"The lady Sarah's heart is broken I thinks. It seems to me as though she's lonely, yer majesty. When I found her she was on her couch and she seemed as though she hadn't poured her heart out in awhile." Hoggle confessed.

There was a change in the Goblin King's tone that made the temperature of the room seem to drop twenty degrees. "Where was Christian?"

"Who?"

Jareth's hands spread flat as they slammed down onto the blotter covering the desk. "Hogger! I have been more than tolerant when it comes to your acts of stupidity. It would be quite unwise for you to play stupid with me now," he hissed.

"I ain't playing. I didn't sees anyone at the apartment with Sarah and she ain't said nothin' ta me 'bout no one named Christian," Hoggle swore.

Instantly a crystal began to spin on Jareth's palm. He again concentrated on Sarah. She appeared curled beneath the blanket on the couch. No man in sight. "Christian," he repeated. The vision in the crystal remained unchanged.

"Ask if she's involved with anyone," Hoggle offered.

"It's not a magic 8 ball you idiot. It should be focusing on him when I concentrate on him." Jareth spat back. "Quickly, what is your wife's name."

"Drema"

The Goblin King repeated the name in his mind until a clear picture of a goblin woman appeared inside the crystal. "Is this your wife?" Hoggle nodded. "Damn!" Jareth shouted swatting the crystal to the ground where it shattered. "Someone's been tampering with my magic." He stewed for a while in an attempt to ascertain who. "Her. She's using her magic to protect him."

"I hardly think," Hoggle began.

"That is entirely besides the point." Jareth interjected.

"I hardly think," Hoggle repeated more determined. "Sarah couldn't have mustered a simple glamour when I saw her, let alone cast a protection spell."

"Leave me Haggle." Jareth commanded as a glow overtook his eyes. "I've a christening to prepare for."


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER THREE - THE TRIUMVIRATE**

The Triumvirate: three men; the Gavel, the Cleric and the Sage. Millennia ago, before even Jareth's father was king, the Triumvirate kept order in the Underground. Created to represent the three things required for a civilization: the Gavel tended to all matters political, the Cleric to all matters of religion and the Sage to all matters of the philosophic. Together they kept order among all the kingdoms of the realm. The Underground, being the largest among them, was at the center. All around the Underground other smaller kingdoms demanded the attention of the Triumvirate. After some time, the Triumvirate decided they simply could not efficiently manage all of the kingdoms. Each member was well into their thousandths, stationed long ago by fey elders, expected to hold their positions for eternity. While flattering, the responsibility grew overwhelming as the kingdoms grew in number.

For months, interviews were conducted with each of the most noble members of the Underground. In the end they voted unanimously to institute Oberon king of the Underground. Oberon was invited back to the home of the Triumvirate in the center of the fourth tallest mountain in the range that made up the southern border of the realm. There he was taught everything there was to know about ruling over a kingdom. How to be fair. How to keep order. How to motivate and lead by example. It quickly became obvious Oberon had been a wise choice.

Once he assumed the throne, the Underground began to thrive. Lush vegetation covered most of the northwestern sector of the kingdom. Fairy species which had been near extinction were brought to this oasis. Oberon even gave them a picturesque waterfall where they could hide from the goblins who tried to hunt them. They were able to frolic and play, dance and sing. Soon their numbers began to increase. Other mythicals came out of hiding. The unicorn could be found sipping from the pool created by the falls. A half dozen or so leprechauns uncovered a cave behind the waterfall where they chose to hide their gold pieces. The king was pleased.

He had done much in just his first few years of rule. But there was much yet to accomplish. In the northeastern sector of the kingdom he created a soft pink sand beach where the water nymphs could glamour to their hearts' content. Further out to sea was an island which lifted a great lighthouse into the sky. Mermaids crested the waves and could sometimes be found on the shores of the island singing in the moonlight. Not to be out done, the cliffs provided the perfect setting for the Banshee to howl her cries. Creatures great and small scurried when her song echoed off the cliff sides.

Of course, by now word of all the improvements being made to the northern sectors had made way to the southern sectors of the kingdom. There was much unrest among the gnomes, sprites and pixies who felt slighted. Oberon pleaded for their patience. It was very much his intention to further refurbish these sectors as well. And so, reconstruction began on the southeastern section of the kingdom. A thick forest was created with plenty of foliage and undergrowth for the tiny breeds to nestle in. Grand stumps left in for the large varieties to make into homes.

Lord Oberon had made quite a kingdom for himself, but he'd forgotten something crucial in creating balance. All those creatures that favored the cold. The elves and snow fairies had no place to blanket with their magic. Therefore, the king used the remainder of his land to provide a wonderland for those who were content to dwell among the icy blue. Igloos dotted the snow covered landscape. An iced over pond was covered with skating elves.

In the center of it all, his castle stood tall. Inside the king, his queen and any of their minor children were permitted to stay. Surrounded by a city of goblins. Goblins were strong, but lacked common sense and good judgment. In this way, the king had created a true symbiotic relationship. He was well protected by their brawn and devotion. They were close enough that he could pay careful attention to their breed, protect them from, well from themselves. Because of this, Oberon earned the name Goblin King from the nobles of the other kingdoms. They mocked the gentility he openly showed to the creatures which were so often ignored by others. In truth, they were jealous. He had been given the Triumvirate's faith and trust. For the first time in the history of the realm, one fey had been made king. Given a kingdom all his own to rule as he saw fit.

Before long, the Triumvirate stopped inspecting the Underground at all. Their time was better spent surveying the progress of the smaller kingdoms in the realm. By century's end, they'd even found the time to rest. The Gavel visited the pink sand beaches in the northeastern sector of the Underground. The Sage sought a peaceful getaway to the northwestern sector's inspiring waterfall. The Cleric dined with the king and they discussed all that he had done for his subjects and how it had created more harmony among the species. Even though it appeared to be a distinct separation, each species was free to roam about the kingdom as they saw fit be it for business, pleasure, or residence. They'd become tolerant of one another. They'd learned to accept and embrace their differences. They'd even discovered some similarity.

The Underground had its king, but Oberon did not have a queen. It was well into his 150th year of rule when he decided to hold a masked ball. There was so much to see within the kingdom, that few visited the castle unless it was in despair. By throwing a ball, he would meet other fey who lived within the kingdom and hopefully a queen. Indeed he did find love that night, but not with one of the invited guests. Oberon found them pretentious. They were trying to be coy. Expecting him to fawn over them, pamper them, provide for them. Having reached his limits, the king wandered onto his balcony to stare at the night sky. From beneath the balcony he could hear sweet music filling up the night.

By the time Oberon managed to weave his way through the dancing crowd and get outside, the music had stopped. Instead he saw a fey kneeling before some rose and lavender bushes which lined the wall beneath the balcony. She was a commoner. The house maid to one of the guests who was asked to remain close at hand should milady desire to depart. Together they sat and talked until the night was chased away by the new day's sun.

Her name was Gwendolyn. Both her parents had been murdered in the raids which plagued the realm prior to the organization of the Triumvirate. Gwendolyn was tall and pale. Her long blonde hair shone nearly white in the moonlight and glistened like gold in the morning sun. Oberon was smitten with her beauty. Not just her physical beauty, but the beauty of her character as well. Just as morning's sun chose a resting spot in the tall blue sky, Oberon and Gwendolyn were come upon by her noble. Furious she ordered Gwendolyn into the carriage. The king objected vehemently and proposed marriage to the orphaned child. Disgraced the noble's mouth hung agape. After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, she dismissed her servant and returned to her carriage with as much dignity as she could muster.

The following year Oberon and Gwendolyn were wed. In the five years following their marriage she had bore him two sons. Corwyn and Darien. Though Corwyn was the elder, he was not the more aggressive. It became apparent from the very early years that Darien had no intention of becoming a submissive younger sibling. Even at play, he took great satisfaction in the defeat of his brother. Corwyn on the other hand was able to keep things in perspective. A game was a game. If winning was more important to Darien then it was more important to Corwyn that his brother experience that happiness. Gwendolyn found it endearing. She looked at her son as gallant, a king in the making. Oberon, on the other hand, worried that his son's caring nature would become his undoing. These were fears not completely without merit.

In the Spring of his 1001st year, Oberon approached the Triumvirate. He had appreciated their faith in him and the honor they'd bestowed by crowning him first king of the Underground, but he'd had two heirs, both well since of age to take the throne. It was his plea to the Triumvirate that he be allowed to pass his throne onto one of his sons so that he might live out his years in the company of his wife without the pressures of ruling the kingdom. The Gavel was appalled at first. He felt Oberon had delivered an insult beneath his inquiry. After all, they had given him nearly supreme power. Now he stood before them rejecting it. The Sage understood what it was Oberon sought. It had been the same pressure they themselves had succumbed to 783 years ago when their quest to find someone to rule the Underground had led them to the man who stood before them now. With no precedent to call upon the trio voted amongst themselves. After many hours of debate the Gavel ruled: Upon the 1000th birthday of the king, or anytime thereafter, provided that he has an heir over the minor age of 75, may pass the title of king onto his heir. However, let it be known, that in the case where a king has a number of heirs, the throne will pass to the eldest male, barring death or some other tragedy that might impede his ability to rule. Then unto each of the younger males in sequence. Should all male heirs suffer death or tragedy, the female heirs shall become eligible to rule as queen, with the same 1000th birthday option being given to her as well. In the case where a king has no heir, he will rule until such time as the Triumvirate deems him unable. Upon such a ruling, the king will be assigned an apprentice, whom he shall teach to hold the throne.

The words burned themselves into the stone that comprised the mountain all around them, and so the first of the laws governing the king were set. Oberon read the words carefully, as the Gavel had instructed him to do, making certain that he fully understood the process. He must, by order of the Triumvirate, pass his kingdom to Corwyn. He knew Darien would consider this a defeat. Quickly he ran the scenario through his mind. Corwyn was 631. In a short while, relatively, he would be able to opt out of the throne and, to appease what would most likely be an enraged younger brother, hand over the Underground to Darien. Although Oberon didn't really feel as though Darien could effectively rule the Underground, but Corwyn's attempts to satisfy his brother had not ebbed in all these hundreds of years and he doubted they would recede now. On the other hand there was his beautiful Gwendolyn, who much to his amazement retained a very youthful appearance for a woman in her 900s.

Fey aged differently needless to say. Even though each passing year they aged one equivalent year, their physical appearances were a reflection of what they felt inside. Thus, while Oberon was 1001, he appeared about as old as a human man in his mid 50s. His wife, Gwendolyn, at 971, appeared as youthful as a human woman in her early 40s. While a fey could physically grow older the effect was not reversible. Were a fey in his early hundreds to experience grief or illness which weathered his spirit, they might appear significantly older. Even if he were to recover, his physical appearance could not rebound to what had once been a youthful facade. Being king had worn Oberon down. He could feel himself growing weary at heart and he knew that while Gwendolyn tried her best to hide it, she too suffered from the same weariness. So why not pass down the throne to a young and able Corwyn who was wise and kind enough to rule well? Oberon only prayed that he was smart enough to keep the throne from the dangerous temperament of his youngest son.

There before the Triumvirate, his wife and his two sons, Oberon who had ruled as the first king of the Underground became the first king to rescind his throne. The Triumvirate announced a formal festival to be held in three days at the castle. A celebration of the end of one king's inspirational rule as well as inspiration to a new king that he may rule as well and as wisely as the fey who had ruled before him.

As expected, Darien was furious that Corwyn was asked to hold the throne. What had been etched into stone by the Triumvirate mattered very little to a child who had believed for more than 600 years that he had been forced to live in the shadow of the new king. What did amaze Oberon was that Darien worked tirelessly in those three days to prepare for the festival, despite the fact that his face betrayed the joy he claimed he felt for both his brother and his parents.

Morning of the third day came. Oberon had called his sons to the castle for a family breakfast. In private, he gave each of them a gift. To Corwyn, a small box, unwrapped, black with a red velvet ribbon. To Darien, a larger box, magnificently wrapped and so weighty it required four goblins for transportation into the dining room. Darien's eyes were wide with pleasure as he took notice of the significant difference in size between the gifts. Corwyn nodded to his brother who opened the package immediately, disregarding the card upon which Gwendolyn had scripted, 'Defend your home before you attack your enemy, but above all else protect your family.' Darien's eyes met with his father's once inside the enormous box. Oberon nodded. It was the first time in as long as the king could remember his son had looked to him for approval. Greedy hands felt the full length of the treasure inside. Darien's fingers wrapped around the hilt just below the cross guard. His knuckles were white. Oberon's gaze grew worried. Perhaps he had chosen less than wisely.

The sword had belonged to Oberon's father who had fought for the Triumvirate during the raids. He warned his child, this was a gift to be greatly respected. Crafted to kill other fey, the weapon contained iron, the one element fatal to the immortals. Merely holding it would weaken fey magic and continue to do so even more the longer it was held. It was the former king's hope that some of the nobility with which that sword had once been wielded would find it's way into Darien. Heaven knew nothing else had worked.

With a hefty sigh, the attention turned to Corwyn. The attention of all but Darien who could not be distracted from his reflection in the blade before him. In Corwyn's box was a medallion. Heavy and made of solid silver, it began as a triangular point and hung on either side like two upside down bull horns. Stamped, in gold, at its center point with the emblem of the Triumvirate. Just above the emblem was a feed hole through which a black leather rope had been placed. He recognized his father's gift immediately. Corwyn had listened intently to his father when he spoke of the raids and the role Corwyn's grandfather had played in them. The Triumvirate had hand chosen Corwyn's grandfather to fight in the raids. This medallion was one of about twenty awarded to the bravest fey which had also been so chosen. Corwyn pleaded with his father saying Oberon was the rightful owner of something so precious. Darien winced at his brother's modesty. Once he agreed to accept the gift, Corwyn slid the leather over his head. The medallion was heavy on his chest, not the last nor the largest of the burdens he was to feel.

By noon the Triumvirate had arrived to inspect the grounds for the festival. All the families hard work had been repaid when the setting was approved. Moments later the guests began to arrive. Well into the night, music could be heard even beyond the Goblin City. There was dancing and amazing foods. Magnolia wine and mead flowed from fountains that seemed to never run dry. Merriment overcame everyone, even Darien, who was caught dancing with more than one lovely fey woman throughout the night. Late in the morning Oberon pulled his eldest son aside. He hadn't seen him dance once all night and it was not for lack of beautiful fey women who had attempted to catch his eye. "Take a wife Corwyn," he instructed. "This mighty castle is just stone and mortar without a bride to share it with."

"Someday," Corwyn had promised his father. "For now I must worry that I am deserving of being king. Someday I shall worry that I am deserving enough of being a husband."

Oberon smiled at his son's ever present selflessness. Sunrise was coming up and the Triumvirate had sent a carriage to pick up Gwendolyn and Oberon to take them to their new home, a cabin in the southwestern section of the kingdom. Shortly after the former king and queen departed, so did the Triumvirate. Shortly after that the guests took their leave. When it had dwindled to just Corwyn, Darien and the younger fey's conquest for the evening, the new king finally took his throne. "Best get yourself a woman here with you brother. What a pity it would be to see you someday die alone." Darien spat at his sibling before he left draped upon the shoulders of a young fey woman who Corwyn did not recognize.

For 62 years, Corwyn had ruled the Underground with much the same diplomacy as his father had for hundreds of years before. He had gained respect of the community. Even the unruly goblins obeyed him. Time had come for Corwyn to consider taking a bride. The eve of his 700th birthday found him alone in the palace game room, playing chess with his brother. Several bottles of mead into their celebration they'd begun discussing women. Darien told all his lewd stories of conquest and domination of course. Corwyn rather wanted to find someone who, like himself, favored other's happiness above their own and who wanted all the same positive things for the Underground that he did. Darien rose to his feet and overturned the table on which they had been playing. "Brother you dream dreams that can never be." Picking up a chess piece from the floor, Darien continued. "Fey women are like this pawn, meant only for our use and sacrafice. Maybe we hold them for an hour," he glared down his nose at the still seated Corwyn, "others for a minute, but eventually they are discarded and forgotten."

Wherever Darien had learned to think of woman this way stumped Corwyn. Their father had not treated woman this way, certainly not their mother. The king began to extol the virtues of their father "Father was a fool. A damned old fool who gave away everything to his favorite son, who has no idea how to use power." Darien spat at his brother's mention of their father.

"Leave," Corwyn insisted. "Leave and do not return until you can speak to your king with respect and of your former king with the same." Darien gave his brother a glance, one eyebrow raised high into his forehead. It was the first time in all their years as brothers Corwyn had proven himself worthy of at least an ounce of his respect.

Night's shadows hid Darien as he devised a plan as evil as he was. He knew Corwyn was alone. He'd given the servants a night off. His gift for the kindness they'd shown in best wishes for his birthday. Made slow and tired by the mead that traveled in his veins, he would retire quickly. Darien returned several hours after his departure from the castle. He waited below the tower which lead to the king's bed chamber until he had seen that Corwyn had extinguished the wall torches. "If only he hadn't decided to start talking about taking a bride." Darien whispered at the stars he saw reflected in the iron blade, "Then I wouldn't have to concern myself with some heir coming along to steal my throne."

Beneath Corwyn's window, he enchanted the castle walls. It was a simple spell designed to fool gravity into thinking the castle ran parallel to the ground rather than perpendicular. Then he grasped his grandfather's sword using it as a cane to walk up the outside of the castle wall. Half way up, the iron in the sword began to weaken his magic and he bent to his knees, using his free hand to help him crawl the rest of the way. Once he reached the window, Darien easily swung his legs inside the ledge and touched down lightly to the stone floor. Corwyn lie sleeping in his bed, intoxication made his restless sleep a heavy one. High above his head, Darien held the sword, point down and prepared to plunge it into his brother's stomach. A second before the sharp iron blade met his skin, Corwyn opened his eyes and met them with his sibling's. "Someday, I knew..." was all he was able to utter, before the iron that touched his blood struck his heart.

Darien withdrew the sword and sheathed it. He sat in the lower deck of his brother's bed chamber, Corwyn's body just a few feet away. He had been so moved by the passion of his hate, he had forgotten to think himself up an alibi. Sweaty hands cradled his throbbing head. Then it came to him. Working feverishly, Darien conjured up another species of fey footprints outside the window. He lowered the open glass through which he had entered and broke it free of its pane, taking careful measure to cast the glass back in upon himself. He gladly allowed the glass to cut his flesh. Lastly, he manifested a silver dagger and plunged it into the back of his thigh.

Out the door Darien did his best to run. The pain in his leg was searing. It ran both down to his toes and up into his stomach. He knew he wouldn't die, but he had no idea he would be so uncomfortable. "Help!" Darien cried into the night. "Someone has slain the king."

When morning came, Gwendolyn and Oberon were brought back to the castle where they had once lived. Both looked much older than they should have given their retirement. Gwendolyn's frail hand lie wrapped inside her husband's palm. Darien approached his mother. He knelt before her taking her free hand into his own and kissing it tenderly below the wrist. "Mother," he cried as crocodile tears traversed his cheeks, "I did as you had intended. I tried to defend my brother's home." The former Queen's eyes did not change from the emotionless orbs of glass they had become upon her arrival. "But I must confess one thing." At the mention of a confession, Oberon laid critical eyes upon his child. "When I could not protect my family, I avenged the death instead." Darien then rose to meet his father's skeptical gaze. "Are you not proud that I was able to kill the thing that did this to your beloved son?"

Oberon had grown old indeed, but at the same time he had grown wise. "They never found any body but Corwyn's. What is it you claim happened to the remains of whatever did this to him?" The way his eyes narrowed as he stressed 'whatever' infuriated Darien.

"It fell out the window. Others of its kind must have come and taken it away." Refocusing on his mother who had never truly been able to come to terms with her son's cruelty, the murderous fey continued, "I was too upset about my brother. The weapon used must have been at least part iron." Was that a tear falling from his eye? "There was nothing I could do for him."

As it were, the Triumvirate was never able to prove that Darien was responsible for Corwyn's death. By their law, he would assume the thrown. The Sage offered him one week's time to grieve for his brother, after which time they would swear him in as king. "Kind counsel, I have already been forced to watch my brother suffer at the hands of madness. I refuse to subject my kingdom to the same." Rolling off his forked tongue, like water over a stone, the words sounded almost genuine.

It was settled. After a brief ceremony was performed by the Cleric to commit the former king to sacred ground. Darien was sworn in as the third king of the Underground. Beneath the cheers of the on-looking crowd, Oberon whispered, "Blessed be the Underground."

The new king was presented with his brother's medallion, as the Triumvirate found it insulting to bury medals of honor. Quickly he donned the necklace and dismissed those in his presence claiming he wished to grieve. Darien spread out in the throne as though it were some sort of chaise. No less than five fey woman joined him in the castle that night to help 'ease his suffering'. The Underground was about to change forever, but not even Darien could anticipate how much.

Two days had passed and the new king had done little more than spend his time enjoying the benefits of royalty. Everything was prepared for him from his food to his baths. He entertained countless strings of women. The drink flowed as freely as it had at Corwyn's festival. But chaos brewed in the Underground. No one respected the new king and he certainly didn't enforce his rule, not well anyway. By noon of the third day the Triumvirate had arrived. They had thought up a few things to help Darien stay safe. If attackers were about to descend on the realms, they would not want to lose another king.

Darien answered the door, greeting all three men. After explaining their purpose, the Triumvirate joined hands and began to cast a spell. Though it was not the immediate result that a short spell tended to have, a profound effect was being felt throughout the realm. Darien steadied himself in the doorway as the mountain ranges which had once made up the border to the realm shifted until they separated the Underground from all the other kingdoms of the realm. Beyond the Goblin City a great maze rose up from the ground. "Never again," announced the Gavel, "shall it be so easy for someone or something to enter the home of the king. This is a great and ever changing Labyrinth. Any and all who seek entrance to the castle, must first complete the riddles which lie inside. The number of Goblin's in the city was allowed to double.

Once the Under earth ceased it's steady rocking and adjusted to the wishes of the Triumvirate, they told Darien he would be required, at least for some time, to seek their approval on all decisions made involving the Underground. Even if it was merely his request that lamb not be served for dinner. Darien was greatly disappointed. In order to turn this, as he did with every scenario, to his advantage, the king allowed the Triumvirate to essentially rule the Underground, so that he could continue to spend his time drinking, carousing and spending the realm's riches.

This went on for quite some time. The Triumvirate was virtually ruling the Underground again. Unfortunately Darien decided to take a wife not long after the three fey had mentioned their desire to dethrone Darien and replace him with someone more acceptable. In a hurried ceremony by the lake, the two were married outside in a gazebo, in the Northwest. Despite the number of women Darien had shared his bed with temporarily, that day he pledged his life and soul to Arianna. Though she wasn't particularly beautiful, she made a fine queen. Her heart was good and, though she waited until after the marriage to reveal this, her will was strong. She allowed Darien to do very little. This pleased the Triumvirate and once more they were able to relax their presence in the Underground.

She conceived his child several months after their wedding. During her pregnancy Arianna allowed her husband to take lovers so that his appetites could not harm her child. The Queen had a difficult pregnancy, but delivered a healthy baby girl nonetheless. They named the girl Leanan Sidhe. Their daughter was not yet 300 when Darien was given the option to rescind his throne. Arianna made it clear, that he was to pass the throne to Leanan Sidhe or she would no longer permit his scandalous affairs. Darien had taken many women to his bed and odds were that Leanan Sidhe was not his oldest child, nor was it likely that no males had come before her. Still, as his only legitimate heir, she was made queen of the Underground regardless.

Leanan Sidhe was an amazing combination of Darien and Arianna. She had incredible strength both physically and spiritually. She had been blessed with Darien's good looks, but her mother's iron will. Her heart was kind, but her head light and she often fluttered from issue to issue in the Underground. While nothing ever got solved, it was still never allowed to run completely out of control. Her closest friends encouraged her to marry. A king to run her kingdom and she would be free to flutter as she pleased without worry or concern for the consequences. But immortal men bored Leanan Sidhe. They were ordinary to her and she was far from ordinary.

The Queen daydreamed lazily about her trips to the Aboveground. It was an incredibly fascinating place and she got to spend so little time there. Just long enough to explain the rules to whomever it was wishing away their children, or the children in their care. A time or two, when she had been particularly fortunate Leanan Sidhe managed to seduce a mortal man while in the Aboveground. Her tastes had been forever changed. It was just a matter of finding a man she couldn't leave. Sadly, Leanan Sidhe knew little of just how much power she had over men. The Leanan Sidhe could entice any man. Her beauty inspired them artistically. An occasional poet could produce epic works. Someone who before her could hardly whistle suddenly sang like a bird. Of course, in exchange, the spark she ignited in their hearts consumed them until their unusually earlier deaths. But of course, by the time the Sidhe's effects could be seen she had already returned to her world completely unaware of the devastation she left in her wake.

She had been on holiday the summer of her 416th year when she met Ian. Ian was a writer for a magazine. He had chosen to vacation at the same beach where Leanan Sidhe had gone. It was a topless beach in the French Riviera. Naturally the Queen had been engaging in the local customs and the mortal became smitten with her. By the end of their week together, he had shown her all the wonder of the mortal world. With him she had known more than just physical love. He had shown her what came the next morning, the day after that and the day after that. Walks in the moonlight. Dancing to music that played only in her head. Long conversations that ended in laughter. Only all this time Aboveground was weakening her magic. At the end of their holiday together, Leanan Sidhe asked Ian to return home with her; however she gave him very few specifics about exactly where home was. The mortal was obviously overwhelmed with her world, but there was no question that he could not be without her.

Ian took to the Underground with relative ease and made a good king in the scheme of things. The Triumvirate was less than pleased. Mortals were still rather questionable in their eyes and while it was too late to forbid her marriage to Ian, they insisted that all future mortals entering the kingdom be christened and converted to immortals so that their world would not be overrun. The decision came too late for Ian, who died suddenly in the arms of his wife before he reached the age of 45. Shortly after his death the Leanan Sidhe discovered that she was with child. Torn between joy and pain, she cried for weeks. Her hormones began to balance and she was accepting the permanency of the situation. She began to think of the child as a way to keep her husband alive. Closer to the end of her term, she hired an elf to nanny the child.

Fearful that her curse would effect any man she chose to love, Leanan Sidhe shuddered when her midwife told her the child was a male. For one brief minute, Leanan Sidhe held the child. Coldly she told the midwife, "I name him Jareth." She handed away her child. "Take him from me," her eyes pleaded with the woman, an urgency growing in her voice. She did not want to bond with the baby, "now!"

The elf nanny raised the baby. She gave him love and exhibited great patience with his hijinks, but Jareth was always well aware that she was not his real mother. Once he was no longer a minor, the Leanan Sidhe left the Underground. She left behind a picture of her and Ian as well as the medallion which her father had given her, asking that someday when the Jareth was old enough, he be told about his true parents. In the Aboveground, Leanan Sidhe was able to hide away from mortal men who found her irresistible. Slowly she lost her magic. Finally she was not able to survive Aboveground.

When word spread to the Triumvirate that Leanan Sidhe's journey was far more than a holiday, they began the process of making Jareth king. He had inherited his mother's beauty and his father's knack for ruling the kingdom. He was filled with charm and could sing even a nightingale to sleep. This fey was arrogant, controlling and he would serve the Underground well. By his 81st birthday Jareth ruled nearly unsupervised, except for the occasional christening. They only hoped that he would not meet the same disastrous fate the noblemen and women before him had.


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER FOUR - ON BENDED KNEE**

Morning of the following day had come to the Underground. Jareth had slept, although not well. The anxious goblins, on the other hand, stayed awake all night counting down the minutes until the child would become theirs. They impatiently awaited the Triumvirate's arrival. Promptly at ten, the only respectable time to hold a Christening, the three fey descended from the mountains behind the castle each donning formal attire. The Cleric led, this being a religious matter after all. He was followed by the Gavel. It was his law that brought them together here today. The Sage the last of the small convoy. Though he was regularly in attendance for these formalities, he found them trite, an excuse drummed up to consume food and liquor.

Jareth met them at the rear gates. Centuries ago, after King Corwyn's murder, the rear gates were installed. They could only be opened with a set of three magic keys. Each member of the Triumvirate held one of these keys. Only when the keys were turned in unison could the gates be opened. As the fey trio entered the gates, the Goblin King bowed low to show his respect. His crisp white vestments swept the ground, fanning out around him. The tip of a leather sheath peaked out from beneath his coat. In the sheath a sword, legend to have killed the villain who had slain Jareth's grandfather while he slept. Around his neck a worn black leather cord held the medallion once worn by Jareth's great-great-grandfather. The king's arrogance was well deserved and well worn. Genuflected before the Triumvirate Jareth seemed regal, both supreme and subservient at once.

"Rise Goblin King," the Cleric spoke. He approached Jareth and took him into a warm embrace. "It's been too long my friend. I worry you have abandoned your faith, or worse, that you believe it has abandoned you."

A gloved hand patted the back of the religious fey. Best as he could Jareth feigned a smile. "Bring forth the child," he instructed.

"What child?" asked the goblin who'd been struck by lightning the night before. Another goblin slapped him.

After a bit of a bustle, which embarrassed Jareth, a larger goblin stepped forward with a child in his arms. "My liege," he knelt to offer the child which was no longer wrapped in the soft pink bunting. Instead she wore a white silk gown elaborately detailed with lace, ribbon and pearls.

Gently Jareth accepted the babe and held her, in turn, out to the Cleric. "We humbly request this child be christened with the name Gossamyr and that she be granted immortality here with us in the Underground."

An incense burner hung from the cords which tied the Cleric's robe. A wave of his hand ignited its contents causing the distinct patchouli aroma to billow out in puffs. The Cleric began to chant in his ancient language. Behind him stood the other two thirds of the trio. Both of them wore an expression of intensity. At some point in the chant the child was taken by the Cleric who waived the burner over and around her small body. The smoke accentuated the child's aura. All goblins in attendance at the ceremony bowed low in awe. Jareth himself returned to his knee. At great length the Cleric finally spoke, "Welcome Gossamyr, Wood Sprite of the Underground. We take you into our hearts and minds, forever interconnected as all things fey are. We bless happiness unto you and we draw upon the happiness of your spirit." The child's ears began to point as the cheekbones heightened making the facial features more pronounced. The child was now fey. Each fey had at least one deformity. Though she now wore those deformities, Gossamyr was still a beautiful child. No doubt she would be beautiful through all her life. "Bring forth the Representatives," the Cleric continued.

There were four true Representatives, one for each of the sectors in the Underground. Each chosen by the community to be the one who would receive and induct the stolen children. Though he was primarily king, Jareth too was a Representative. His goblin community looked to him to handle these matters as none among them were truly bright enough to have done it. Likewise, it was the king who had sole power to banish a creature to the Labyrinth. The two southern sectors' Representatives took their places to Jareth's left while the two northern sector's Representatives came forward to stand at his right. In unison the males recited, "Great elders, we are each only too humbled to accept this child. We recognize our obligation to welcome and educate her and we pledge that even if she is not chosen to share our sector of this kingdom, she shall be eternally welcomed to share our lives."

"Insomuch as each of you has pledged yourselves unto this child, it is the decision of the Triumvirate that the new wood sprite, Gossamyr, shall be given unto Tiberon, Representative of the southeastern sector of this kingdom." The Cleric met Tiberon's proud gaze, "Step forth and claim your child." At this time the Gavel drew a leather ledger from beneath his vestments and began to make an entry.

Knelt before the trio, Tiberon reached to accept Gossamyr. "You have seen fit to award my people a new and beautiful child. We praise the three of you. I accept this child and vow to keep and provide for her to the best of my ability. She will be raised to obey the laws, enjoy our realm, and praise the Supreme One." Tiberon accepted the child. Reaching toward the Sage, he extended his thumb and lowered it into a well being held out toward him. He saturated his thumb in the oil, brought it to his forehead, made a small triangle and repeated, "In the presence of the Gavel and of the Sage and of the Cleric, this is my vow." He repeated the procedure on the child's forehead.

Upon the completion of the vow the Cleric announced, "Let us celebrate!"

There were many loud cries as Tiberon marched the child through the crowd and into the main gardens of the castle. The child was cradled beneath a cherry blossom tree where she slept peacefully. Others around her laughed and danced. Still she rested. A roasted pig was presented for lunch. More of the kingdom's inhabitants made appearances. Jareth greeted the majority, then retired to his throne room, where no one would be permitted during the festivities, and took his meal there requesting the company of the Cleric. Of the three fey comprising the Triumvirate he was the only one who took a liking to the Goblin King. For reasons they kept to themselves, the others had a distaste for him. Perhaps they feared that he would someday succumb to the evil that he'd inherited from his grandfather. Solely the Cleric knew that Jareth had inherited much more from his parents than from the generations that had come before. He alone had been witness to Jareth's more spiritual side. He personally counseled him through his mother's leave and subsequent death. He knew of the king's heartache for the mortal, Sarah, and had hoped that Jareth would seek him again for healing. Sadly he had not. Intuition told him that the recent change in his friend stemmed from his repressed pain. Sarah reminded Jareth of Leanan Sidhe. Not in the way of Oedipal, rather it was that he had been abandoned by every woman in his life who he had wanted to stay. Pain had not just effected his heart, but his physical appearance as well. Fifteen years on a fey looked to be little more than a human year, but the Goblin King seemed to have aged five times that much. And when the Goblin King was weathered so was his land. Lush areas of the kingdom had become overgrown. Areas beyond the Labyrinth had become a ruddy desert completely void of any vegetation. It was indeed troublesome.

"I accept your invitation Jareth. In truth, the request pleases me more than you know." The king offered his vacant Queen's throne to the holy fey. "Tell me friend, what is it that troubles you these days?"

Never moving his attention from his meal, Jareth dryly replied, "Little troubles me these days. I choose not to allow it."

"Then you offer your troubles to the Supreme One?"

"I forbid my troubles Cleric. Besides, the Supreme One has no time for the troubles of a fey such as myself."

"I feared that would be your response," the Cleric hung his head and sipped from his goblet of mead.

"My trouble is this," Jareth lowered his fork forcefully to the plate before him. "There are many who wish to harm me. I am well aware of that fact. I am aware also that I continue to survive because I am feared. Can you tell me Cleric, tell me that the Supreme One can waylay those fears? No, you cannot." He leaned back putting a little distance between the two of them. "You shall be the only friend to share my meals. No woman shall share my bed for more than one eve." Jareth waved away his near empty plate and called upon a goblin to bring him more mead.

With a nod the Cleric accepted a refill from the grotesque fellow who poured as carefully as he could, but managed to spill a few drops nonetheless. "You are not fully the fey you fear they see."

"They call me evil, a rat. King of the Goblins they snicker, as if I were little more than a royal babysitter."

"You are a good king," the Cleric stressed.

"I am a feared king."

His eyes met Jareth's, "You are a respected king." A frail hand reached for the soft grey leather clad hand resting on the arm of the throne. "My intuition tells me there is more at the heart of your doubts."

Jareth jerked his hand away. "I have seen love lead to nothing but tragedy and so I shall never love. Without love, I shall never seed an heir, with no heir, I shall rule the Underground until such time as I am killed or you and your companions deem me no longer worthy of the title." He paused to sigh. "I am mocked enough as it is for the lineage handed down by my grandfather and the controversy of my mother's indiscretions with a mortal man." In one gulp the king emptied his goblet. "Then I find myself defeated by a mortal child. Disgraced to my entire kingdom. Whispered rumors about my unnatural feelings for mortals. I thought I'd rid myself of her meddling years ago. Now I find she's been using her mortal magic to interfere with my fey powers." His fist crashed off the arm of his throne. "I cannot effectively rule if this is allowed to continue."

The Cleric had listened closely and heard much more in the outburst than Jareth had intended to tell. His heartache ran deeper than his defeat at the hands of a mortal girl. Indeed, he had gone without a father, raised by a surrogate mother and made to suffer for evils done before him. Now his future seemed condemned to the same fate that plagued his past. Jareth's magical mishaps were not the result of anything the mortal had done, the Cleric knew this. A small chuckle arose in his throat. Sweet honey wine washed it away and with some levity he asked the king, "And who was it that gave the girl her powers?"

"I had no idea when I gave her those powers that she possessed magic of her own that would become ignited."

Mercilessly, the Cleric continued with his inquisition, "And why was it you had given her certain of your powers?"

At this Jareth glared at his companion. "You know full well."

"You loved her, my friend." He waved away his plate, "Were it my call to make, I would wager that you do still."

The king's teeth were closed tight and his lips barely moved. "I am incapable of love."

"You are incapable of accepting love. The Supreme One made us all capable of love."

"Don't preach to me holy fey. You forget my father was mortal. In his realm there is a Heaven and a Hell, ruled by a God and a Devil, representing good and evil. Every being in that realm is a bit of both. Part of me is a mortal being who the Supreme One refuses to acknowledge. The only reason you made me immortal was to ensure an heir to the throne."

Jareth's eyes were wide with rage as he took in the laughing Cleric. Between chuckles he admitted, "Oh now, be calm. I see I've pushed you further than I intended." The king's anger stilled some. "It's neither rejection by the Supreme One nor your mortal that plagues you now."

"Then what is it?" he spat.

Again the Cleric broke into laughter. "'Tis I my friend and I have been caught red-handed."

Jareth's eyes became curious, "Explain yourself immediately." His words rolled from his tongue as would a serpent's, were they able to speak.

"Years ago when the mortal defeated you, the Triumvirate was forced to uphold her words. You would have no power over the girl. This meant your magic was useless in all matters involving her or her more immediate loved ones."

"Then why is it that I can see her in my crystals?"

"My fault again, I'm afraid." The holy fey eased back into the throne and folded his hands across his mid-section. "It pained me to see you without Sarah. She brought you joy Jareth." A great moan escaped the king as he moved to interrupt. "Quiet. Denounce it all you want, but she brought something in you to life. You loved that girl. How cruel would I have been to take even her image from you?"

"Cruel! You were worried about being cruel? Do you have even an inkling what you've allowed me to see?" the king shouted.

"Truth hurts us at times. I have told you that before." He continued with his explanations. "There was no perfect way to resolve the matter. It was either something or nothing. Frankly, I fear that I may have been unwise in my decisions. I take it you have seen her with a man."

That was an understatement if Jareth had ever heard one. "She has taken a suitor. I called upon her vision when they were," he paused and grew quiet, "mating." Just saying it made him ill.

"Jareth, the humans call it love making."

"No Cleric, it was no a process of making love, trust me when I tell you this." Immense displeasure consumed the king's face. Quickly, he moved to change the topic, "So it was you who messed with my magic?"

"Aye."

"In my best interests I'm sure?"

"Aye."

"I do not like limitations placed on me Cleric, especially without my consent."

"I would imagine that you do not, Jareth."

His glove rose to his chin, the forefinger jutting out towards his the man in the robes. "Tell me this. What must I do in order to regain my full magic?"

This was an unheard of scenario. No one questioned the Triumvirate. "I do not believe you can do anything. Orders issued by the Triumvirate are not subject to question."

"Ah," Jareth rolled the sound from deep in his throat, over his tongue and through his open mouth, "but no order was issued. None that I was aware of."

He had spoken truth. The Cleric himself had entered the order and knew it had never been formally announced. "You are wise beyond your years." He rolled his thumbs over themselves as he thought the scenario through. "I suppose," he continued, "you could request the mortal rescind her statement."

"Tell me some other way," the king's tone half way between a plea and a command.

"I can't." He pondered a moment longer. "If you were to petition the Triumvirate for a reversal, you would be unquestionably denied. Your only other remedy is to risk facing the mortal again."

Jareth's eyebrow cocked, "Risk?"

"Were you to request Sarah rescind her statement, she may deny you a second time. I don't know that I could offer you anything if this were to occur, not even her image."

A wicked grin overtook the mouth of the king, "You needn't concern yourself with that. Should the mortal girl deny me again, I'll have no need for her image." He stood and moved to exit the throne room. "You'll excuse me. You know the way out."

The Cleric called down the long hall, "Jareth, there are conditions which I must place on your attempt to face the mortal."

Suddenly Jareth reappeared immediately before the Cleric. "What conditions?" he asked visibly aggravated.

"Now is not the time. It is a day of celebration." His hand left a swift pat on Jareth's shoulder. "Enjoy yourself tonight. Tomorrow at noon, come to the Triumvirate." Jareth rolled his mismatched eyes. "Now, you'll need their consent to leave the realm anyway so if I was you, I'd relax, get a good night's rest and try to come tomorrow with an open mind," he wagged a finger at the king, "and a closed mouth."

Jareth draped himself across his throne. "Enjoy what?" he grumbled. Nothing or no one in his garden brought him any joy.

The next morning he arose where sleep had claimed him, still draped upon his throne. A chorus of curious voices sang around him.

"Is he dead?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"He's breathing."

"I wish he were dead."

"He can't die."

"Somebody poke him."

"Get away from me," the king roared. "Get me Hoggle."

"Yes your grace," several of them answered at once.

"It's still quite early," a goblin piped up.

Jareth grabbed him by the collar, "Get me the dwarf." He punted the goblin into the hall.

Moments later Hoggle's stout legs propelled him with great purpose into the throne room. "Now you listen heres yer Majesty, I'll not have you summoning me at all hours this way."

"Hobble?"

"Hoggle!"

"Yes, next time you plan one of your outbursts, be certain I've not decided to offer you an opportunity first. It may just cause me to change my mind." The dwarf's eyes narrowed suspiciously at the king. "I will be taking my leave of the Underground for a period of time. I have no wife or child to oversee my throne in such an absence. My goblins all lack the intelligence to polish this," his gloved hands ran over the arms of the elegant chair, "much less sit in it." He eyed Hoggle carefully for some hint of comprehension. "Do you see what I'm saying?"

"Yer going away," Hoggle repeated.

"That is all you would hear." Jareth rose and paced circles around the dwarf as he continued, "While I'm away you will be acting king. You have always been loyal to me, with the exception of certain things pertaining to a certain mortal."

"Yer majesty? I...I..."

"There is nothing to object to. You will do this."

"Where are you going?"

"To see the Triumvirate." He avoided Hoggle's stare hoping it would stay his questions.

"Why?"

"I don't need to tell you anything."

Knowingly, Hoggle looked at the floor. "It's Sarah ain't it? You're gonna go after Sarah."

"Before you get your breeches in a bundle, I'm only going to ask for my full magic back."

"If you harm even one hair on her head, I swear..."

Jareth raised a hand to hush him, "Why would I do that now when I have had fifteen years to seek my vengeance and have done nothing?"

Hoggle knew better. Sarah had a profound effect on the Underground. Each of the creatures who met her grew to love her. For Jareth it ran deeper. He had fallen in love with her. To hurt Sarah was to hurt himself and that went against his interests. "When will you leave?"

"Four hours from now." He turned his back and began to leave. Over his shoulder he said, "Move your family in while I'm away so you needn't be separated. Arulan will tend to you and a nanny will be provided for your child."

Hoggle stood dumbfounded by what had transpired between them. Jareth was very out of sorts, but then again, Sarah had that effect on him. Now he had gone and made Hoggle king. The dwarf's head swayed back and forth watching the king's slow stride lead him out of the throne room. Even fifteen years later she continued to defeat him. "I hope you know what your doing," he warned a deaf Jareth as the throne room doors thrust themselves open and the king left for his bed chambers to prepare.

Arulan entered carefully. Word of Jareth's mood had spread quickly throughout the kingdom. Her long blonde hair hid her worried eyes as she bowed toward him, "How may I serve you sir?"

"Run my bath," he said flatly. His intention had been to deliver the news of Hoggle's new appointment, but it didn't seem right to begin there.

Obediently, she rose, crossing in front of Jareth to the master bath suite. Upon her return she found her Lord seated on one of the leather couches on the lower level of his chamber. A snap of his fingers had ignited the logs in his fireplace. Soberly, his chin rested in the palm of his hand and his distraction was beyond obvious. "Your bath is run, sir. Is there more that I might help you with before you leave?"

One of Jareth's soft grey leather clad hands rose to dismiss his loyal servant, but was halted as it occurred to him exactly what she had just said. A raised eyebrow instead turned to her. His hand lowered and he used his elbows to brace himself on his knees. Silently he questioned how she'd become aware of his plan.

"Begging your pardon sir, but word travels fast in this castle especially when that word is about you." Jareth nodded his agreement. "Tis true that you've left Hoggle in charge?" Jareth's head nodded again, this time staying low as he waited for the criticism to follow. Criticism never came. "I think that is a wise choice my lord. Only the Supreme One knows what the goblins would do unsupervised." A slight chuckle arose in her as she thought about what that would truly be like. "Rowdy bunch, they are."

The king looked at her intensely, he trusted so few others. Arulan had been with him as long as he'd been in the Underground. Her faithfulness to him and his kingdom had never been questionable. Unfortunately, it was no matter of state that burned inside his soul right now. Tears fell inside his heart. He condemned himself to facing the mortal again. Might as well have been an iron blade he would attempt to swallow while praying that the hot metal spared the delicate lining of his throat.

The elf could sense in him great fear and burdensome doubt. In all his adult years she had never dared to touch her king. It was a matter of respect between them. But this minute her heart wept with his. Too many times through the thick wall separating her chambers from his, she had heard him awaken from sleep shrieking the mortal's name. A name that had become legend in the Underground echoed in a cry that made him seem almost infantile. Arulan had resisted many times, taking him into her arms and attempting to ease his pain. One delicate hand braced her against the arm of the couch were he sat. The other rose to the king's cheek, "You will not lose a second time. In fact, this time I believe you stand even more to gain."

Jareth leaned into her touch, after all, it was not often that someone in his realm touched him tenderly. Fey were creatures of heightened sensitivity. The king himself had worked for centuries learning to hide his emotions, remain aloof almost arrogant in the face of fear or sadness, doom and danger. In the touch of his house elf he felt overwhelming compassion. Years of suppressed tears rushed towards his eyes culminating in one drop which escaped his eye and ran furiously fast down his cheek.

Upon seeing this, Arulan quickly rose and left the company of her king for fear that she would be punished severely for crossing established class boundaries. Jareth made no move to stop her nor to reprimand her. Instead he seemed ignorant of her as he wiped away the wetness from his face. Just before she left he spoke. "Arulan?" The trembling elf stopped and turned toward him, never making eye contact. She feared she would never be able to do so again. "Serve the dwarf only half as well as you have served me. I do expect to reclaim my throne when this has passed and I'll have no argument from him about not wanting to leave."

She understood both his words and their underlying meaning as she tearfully responded, "Aye."

Submerged in the hot water, the Goblin King prepared himself for his meeting with the Triumvirate. What would be said? How he would respond to the gauntlet of questions. He asked himself if it was worth all that he would endure. First there would be the chastisement of the three. Then he would undoubtedly suffer some indignation they would assign. Worse than all else he would have to face his mortal again. Eye to eye with the woman child who had defeated him. Of her he would have to request, no beg, his magic be returned. She would make him beg he thought. As she had turned the Labyrinth to her benefit, so would she turn his trip to the Aboveground. Sarah Williams knew his weaknesses.

For one brief moment, Jareth imagined that he might confess his heart to her. Shattered by his ideas of just how awful it would be to be that vulnerable before her a second time, the image fled his mind. No he decided. He would continue to harden his fey heart to her. So began the process once more. Repeatedly, he replayed the moments she betrayed him. The ways in which she had denied him. The disapproval in her eyes and the repulsion in her touch. Anger raged through him practically boiling the water in which he sat as the first stroke of noon rang out from the grandfather clock in his room. By the third resounding bong, he was dressed in his formalwear, leaving behind his sword, of course. It would have been most inappropriate to make a request of the Triumvirate donning weaponry. As the fifth bong rung out he sighed deeply. Knelt to the ground beneath him and waved a corner of his long coat. The glitter blew away.

"Jareth," the Gavel's voice filled his ear, "I see you're punctual as always."


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER FIVE - ABOVE THE UNDERGROUND**

"SARAH!"

It was a deafening male cry which shook her to her toes. For a moment even the hot water that cascaded over her skin seemed to run cold. "In the shower," she hollered back trying not to sound as irritated as she really was.

Christian poked his head around the curtain. "Where the hell are my keys?" Sarah turned around a bit faster than she meant to and practically lost her balance. Recovered from the near stumble, she focused on Christian as she stood naked before him, the water massaging her sore muscles. Sore from sleeping on the couch for almost a week since the first night she'd dug out her old copy of the Labyrinth and read it cover to cover. Sarah thought he would've taken notice, not only of her absence beside him, but of the sight she was before him. This was supposed to be a man's fantasy, but not Christian's. He really just wanted to know about his keys.

"I saw them on the coffee table earlier," she told him pulling the curtain closed. Sarah didn't think of herself as particularly unattractive. Then there were these moments when Christian could make her feel tragically ordinary. Moments later she heard the front door slam. "Couldn't even be bothered to tell me where you were going on a Saturday afternoon?" Sarah huffed. Shrugging off her boyfriend's rejection, she continued her shower. She washed her thick, dark hair and scrubbed her face. Lathering a scrubbing sponge, the irritated woman ground exfoliating wash into her skin until it began to glow. The hot water stung her skin, adding to the redness she'd already created.

Emerging from the shower, Sarah felt renewed. It was Saturday, she had nothing to do and Christian was gone. A purple terry robe wrapped about her, hair wound in a towel atop her head, Sarah made her way to the kitchen. There she found the coffee pot turned on and nearly empty. What remained on the bottom of it was chemically changing to a thick brown epoxy. Angrily she threw the switch, bringing the science experiment to a halt. "And people wonder why I drink tea. Honestly, you would think a 33 year old man would know how to make a lousy pot of coffee!" Grabbing the pot she tried to set it in the sink, but found it already full with pans and a plate. An over medium egg and two half strips of bacon covered the apple basket pattern in the middle of the Corelle dinner plate. "Disgusting!" She set the coffee pot down, pulled up the plate with one hand and a pan with the other. Setting down the pan, Sarah scrapped the leftovers into the disposal. "How hard was that?" She threw her hands up. "Scrap the leftovers into the disposal, load the dishes in the dishwasher, turn the coffee pot off, tell the woman you live with where you're going."

Whenever someone questioned her relationship with Christian, Sarah managed to smile bravely and utter something very understanding about how either they wanted to get to know each other first or it was more of a priority to establish their careers. In the beginning, she meant it. That was a couple of years ago. Now the excuses tired her. She wanted to be somebody's something. Thirty was too old to be a girlfriend. Christian should have realized by now what he had. She cared for him, kept his house, did his wash and shared his bed. In fact, there was little left for him to do for himself. Scour the papers looking for auditions and then go off to them. Even that he had trouble with. The parts were always too small or too beneath him. As if someone with Christian's limited natural talent was in any position to be particular. How did she let herself come to this?

A long time ago she had some idea what love would bring her. Sarah wanted to find someone who made her laugh. Someone who swept her completely off her feet. She wanted to share kisses that made her knees weak with someone who made her heart pound. Young and determined not to settle was one thing, but now she was older than all her married friends. She wanted to be married too, didn't matter if he had no class or consideration, that he was rude and insensitive. Christian was a prospect, but he hadn't even brought it up. Sarah dropped a few hints, but they, much like she, went unnoticed. Tears were flowing steadily now.

"I need you Hoggle," she sobbed into her palms. "I need you right now!"

"...that pea-shooter at those chickens or else I'm gonna..." Hoggle's voice trailed off as suddenly he noticed there was no tiny goblin before him to be chastised. "Sarah? Sarah, did you call me?" Bushy eyebrows moved back permitting his blue eyes to look up at her. Tears fell from between her fingers to the floor in front of his feet.

Amazed, she gawked at him as she fell to her knees. "You came back! You came back!"

"Of course I did" His sausage fingers smoothed her hair.

Wrapping a bit of her sleeve around her finger, Sarah dabbed at her eyes. "Oh Hoggle, I'm so miserable." Suddenly it became clear that she didn't want to confess anything, she just didn't want to be alone. "Miserable for what I've put you through. I feel like I owe you something."

The dwarf gave her a crooked smile, "Sarah I can't help if yer gonna lie to me." No matter how difficult it was, he turned his back to her. "Now I'm very busy in the Underground and I have very little time for false alarms. Unless you truly need me, I've gotta get back before those nitwit goblins destroy Jareth's castle."

"Why isn't Jareth keeping an eye on them?"

"Ah, ah," Hoggle stumbled. "Jareth is...busy with other things right now...and...well...he asked for my help."

"He can barely remember your name, Hoggle. Now who's lying to whom?"

"Ain't none of your business what Jareth does. He's got no rule over you." He shook a finger at her, "Said so yourself."

"I used to speak so quickly. Back then I was so caught up in what I would say I had little time to grasp the consequences." Mindlessly, Sarah twisted the soggy sweater sleeve in her fingers. "You were right. In my youth I took many things for granted. Hoggle what's wrong with me? I used to be brave enough to say what I thought and stick up for myself. But now," she motioned around her, "I take orders, on and off the stage. I do as I'm told and I never question what is asked of me. I never tell them I deserve better."

"And by them, you mean Christian, don't ya?"

Raven black curls fell over Sarah's shoulders as she cocked her head at the perceptive dwarf. "How did you know about Christian?" Hoggle turned back to face his friend.

"Just knew is all. I know lotsa things. Taught you 'bout fairies didn't I? Helped you work the Labyrinth didn't I?"

Sarah nodded on both counts, "I wish you could help me now."

"Seems to me, you need to help yourself." He stood before her, catching her eye and taking her hand into his. "Do you love this man, Sarah?"

"I don't think I've ever been in love with anyone Hoggle." Mentally she analyzed the men from her past. "Maybe one," it occurred to her, "when I was too young to realize it."

Hoggle knew what she was thinking and while he knew she was right, he'd spent these years wondering how someone went from hating someone else so intensely to reminiscing over their love for them. "Why would you wanna be with someone who you don't love, who don't love you," shyly he looked away, "not like you deserve anyway."

She looked at him with honesty and pain prevalent in her eyes, "Because Hoggle, it's better than being alone."

"No Sarah, it's not. It's less lonely than bein' alone, but it ain't no better."

Sarah smiled at him. He was trying to help, she knew that. A hand reached out and snatched up a handful of his cheek, giving it a pinch. "How'd you get so smart?"

"I listen to what Drema says." Hoggle chuckled, "and you'll listen to yer friend Hoggle." He excused himself, claiming that business at the castle begged for his attention.

Sarah nodded her understanding before giving him one last hug and kiss, then bid him good day. He had spoken truth to her. When Christian got home, there would be a discussion to be had. This time she would not back down. Whatever she needed to say would be said and regardless of what his ears wanted they would hear her. For that moment some of her adolescent bravery surrounded her.

Maybe too much, as she ran back to her bedroom and took a seat at the now antiquated dressing table. Vivid green eyes peered into the glass. For nearly a minute, she held her own gaze. Sarah felt like she had locked eyes with a stranger. Everything around her seemed unfamiliar and the 30 year old face looking back was out of place. After licking her lips, she kneaded them together and as forcefully as she could said, "I need you." A nervous pause filled the space between the sentence and its subject. "Jareth."

As the remainder of the Triumvirate was filing into the Great Hall, the Goblin King doubled over, clutching his stomach and bending his knees. 'She's calling me again,' he thought as he waited for the agony to subside. It was his own fault. Jareth knew well enough that all things fey bore a certain connection to each other. He'd given Sarah his magic and every time she tried to use it on him, he felt the struggle between his desire to obey and her proclamation which rendered him powerless to oblige.

Stooping to assist, "King Jareth, are you not well?" the Cleric asked.

Shaking off the helping hands, he stood and nodded to indicate that the momentary discomfort had passed. "I feel fine holy fey and stand only to feel better and stronger should you and your associates see fit to grant my simple request."

"Simple?" the Sage questioned. "It is not without some knowledge that we come to meet you today Goblin King. The request you intend to make is as simple as asking the stars not to shine. Surely, you must realize the extent to which what you seek is extraordinary?"

"I don't find it extraordinary that a king should desire his full powers."

The Gavel spoke again, "And is that all you desire?"

"Tis not for the Triumvirate to ask," the Cleric interrupted before Jareth could respond. "As I see it, a decision was made without any notice being provided. A decision I myself take full responsibility for. We would be remiss to forbid our king his right to reclaim what is his."

"Don't you mean whom?" the Gavel spat sarcastically.

The Sage laid a hand on the lawful fey's arm, "For pity's sake my brother, regardless of what or whom our king seeks, this could be a most interesting situation if we are wise about it."

Trouble spread over the Cleric's face. He suspected that they might use this as an excuse to toy with Jareth, humble him a bit.

"Make your request," the Gavel instructed.

Before dropping to his left knee, a wary glance left Jareth's eye and sought out each member of the Triumvirate. Once he was knelt before them, he dropped his eyes to the floor and spoke trying desperately to be sincere, "Most honorable fey of the Triumvirate, I find myself before you today with a request. You three alone are all powerful in this realm." He choked down a hard swallow before continuing, "Either way I will respect the decision you make, but I respectfully request passage above the Underground."

"Your purpose?" queried the Sage.

The king wanted to say, 'you know full well my purpose', but he remembered what the Cleric had said to him only one day earlier. "I wish to face the mortal who once defeated me."

"Why might that be?" smirked the Gavel. Of the two members of the Triumvirate who lost no love for this king, he seemed to be enjoying their little game the most.

Jareth sneered. There was a limit to what he would take. He started to rise, then resumed his position when he saw the hand of the Cleric raise itself toward him. "I wish to ask her to free me of the proclamation she made when last we faced one another, thereby restoring my full power as king and returning the fey magic I had once granted her."

The Gavel was merciless, "And why did a wise fey such as yourself share your magic with this mortal child?" He tried to hide a smile behind his hand.

A low rumble started in Jareth's throat and his growl soon echoed off the walls of the Great Hall. "Enough," he shouted standing to confront the lawmaker and the philosopher. "I am king. Not by vote, not by appointment, but by birthright. Mortal blood courses in my veins, it is true, but I had no say in it's being there and I won't allow you to punish me for it one more minute." The Cleric stood between him and his associates. Jareth directed his attention toward his concerned face. "You know as well as I do that a decision was made before any one of us entered this room. They're toying with me like a caged animal." Refocusing on the other two he spat, "You do know how a caged animal reacts to being toyed with gentlefey."

"Spew your threats someplace else Goblin King." The Sage responded. "Only a fool would dare to wage battle with the Triumvirate. I do not believe you are a fool. You may not be wise, but you are no fool." He eyed Jareth until the king uncomfortable shifted his glare away. "You were correct in what you said. A decision was made before any of us came here today. Perhaps we were a bit unruly to badger you the way we have, but your request has been granted."

Granted. Jareth never imagined he would hear that word today. He began to bow in gratitude. "Not so quickly," the Gavel interjected. "Your request has been granted inside certain perimeters."

How the Goblin King hated that fey. He was always making things more difficult. Shamelessly flaunting his power when it came to those he didn't much care for. It made him wonder what the elders had seen in him that made him worthy to hold a seat in the Triumvirate. Jareth rose his eyebrows in the Gavel's direction indicating that he was ready to listen to these perimeters.

"First," he began, "you will have no magic to use for your journey."

Jareth nodded.

"You will begin from your castle at break of day. You will work your way through the Labyrinth using only your wit and skill."

Jareth nodded again.

"Provided that you solve your Labyrinth in the same amount of time you once gave the mortal, you will be granted passage to the Aboveground. Keeping in mind that you will work the puzzle in reverse and so solving your Labyrinth will mean finding the outer most gate rather than your castle."

"Agreed," the Goblin King said, turning to leave.

"Not so quickly, there's more," the Gavel continued. "Should you make it Aboveground, you will not be able to do anything more than confront the mortal to make the request you claimed today you wished to make. This means no quarreling with this or other mortals. No stealing children and no hiding away Aboveground like your mother"

Jareth scowled at him.

"This should not be a problem if what you've said is true." He held the glare of the king until the scowl faded. "Should the mortal deny you, again," the Gavel stressed, "you will be forbidden to return Aboveground ever again, unless it is to take a wished away child. Additionally, your powers over all mortals will be usurped." The Gavel sneered, "That means relying only on the Labyrinth to defeat the mortals. No more poisoned peaches. No more bubbled balls. No more viewing the challengers in your crystals. A fair fight Jareth. You do know what that is, don't you?"

"That's preposterous," Jareth shouted.

"That's your opinion" the Gavel said. "These are your conditions as we the Triumvirate see fit to make them. Do you accept?"

The king looked helplessly to the Cleric who only hung his head as helplessly in return.

"Do you accept?" the Gavel repeated.

Jareth nodded one more time.

The Cleric looked at him, "Are you mad?"

"It's too late to reason with him Cleric, his decision is made," the Gavel said snidely.

"Jareth," the holy fey met him eye to eye, "did you pay attention to what they said? All of your powers over all mortals usurped. You'll be little more than a figure head in the Underground if you fail."

His hand reached for the holy vestments. "Then I best not fail." With that Jareth swung his cape and disappeared.

"Even centuries old you act like children," the Cleric said to his associates.

Back in his bed chamber Jareth stared into his mirror, "I'm coming Sarah."

The front door that had seemed to close only minutes ago, was opening now after being sealed for many hours. Sarah stirred in her seat, "Jareth!", she called. Frantically, she dried her eyes and smoothed her hair. Horrified she realized she was in her robe. Quickly she dropped it to the floor and pulled on a baggy sweater she hoped would hide the fact that she was missing a bra. Sarah headed to the front door hoping on one leg as she tried to get her jeans on. "Jareth?"

Beyond the door there was mumbling. The occasional frustrated groan filled her with fear. Her hands trembled as she reached to undo the lock. Until now, Sarah didn't realize how much she had wanted to see the Goblin King again. What would happen when the door swung open was a mystery to her, but it was one she wanted to solve. One last pat on her stomach to try to settle the butterflies and Sarah flung open the door, taking a step back and propping against the wall.

"Jesus Christ Sarah!" It was Christian. "I've been out there for 15 minutes trying to get your attention."

If disappointment were any greater, Sarah wouldn't have known it. Butterflies gave way to waves of nausea as she grew physical ill just at the sight of him. "Why didn't you use your key?"

"Isn't it obvious?" he asked, raising his arms to show they were full with bags.

"You went shopping." What, so he was a magician now? They had less than 50 dollars between them and neither one with any job prospects this week.

He set the bags down on the couch, "Yeah I went shopping."

"With the credit card?" It was not easy to hide her anger.

"No," he retaliated equally as upset at being questioned this way. "I asked grandma for some cash so she sent me a check."

"You asked your grandmother for money? How much Christian?" He avoided her stare acting as if he never heard her voice. "How much Christian?"

No longer able to ignore her newly authoritative tone, he raised his eyes to meet her stony stare, "What business is it of yours?"

"I'll tell you what business it is of mine. I'm tired of cleaning up for your irresponsibility. The things you do effect me Christian. The rent being late means I might lose the roof over my head. The money you put on the card, I'm just as obligated to pay it back as you." Sarah boldly began unpacking his bags. There were two new suits, half a dozen shirts, a couple of ties, new shoes and a chunky brown leather box. When she opened it she saw a thick banded gold men's watch inside. "Holy shit Christian, how much did you take from her?"

It was unlike him to concede, but something about the way she seemed so determined, the way she uncharacteristically took charge of the situation, stole his focus from his secrecy, "A couple thousand."

Rifling the expression she had worn the first time she'd seen a professional stage in New York, Sarah's green eyes blazed and grew wide. "A couple of thousand," she choked. "When are you going to grow up?"

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. When are you going to grow up?" Sarah threw down the watch in her hand. "That woman lives on a limited income. What she does have she's worked hard to save and it's taken her years."

"Well she wanted me to have it. She said so."

Head shaking, "No, you wanted you to have it. She's so blinded by her love for her first grandson she couldn't tell you no," she pointed out.

Snatching the bags up, Christian raged, "It's none of your fucking business what I do with my family."

Without knowing it he'd managed to touch on the root of the entire problem. "No, it isn't is it? I suppose it never will be." He looked at her without saying a word, his face screwed up, trying to figure out what she meant by that. Clearing his confusion, Sarah continued spewing out words whose origins were a mystery to her. "Well you've been as aggressive with our relationship as you have with your career. Sitting back waiting for it to happen, not doing anything to take charge of it."

"Oh no you don't," he set the bags on their bed and came out charging at her. "Don't you start with this marriage thing again. We've done this a thousand times and each time we've come to the same conclusion. We need to establish our careers first."

"What careers?" she spat back in his face. "You can't get a decent job to save your soul and I'm not permitted to take anything that might upstage you."

Harshly, his fingers ground into her upper arms, "That's not true!"

"It is true," Sarah continued even though she felt his grip digging deeper into her muscles, "because if it weren't you wouldn't be so upset."

"Well if that's what you think, then fine." With a quick shove, he threw her aside. "No one's been beating down our door to offer you a role either."

'Yeah,' she thought, 'because I've said no so often they've stopped asking.'

"If you think your such a prima donna then the next time that phone rings, take whatever part they offer you. But I won't be in the audience when you fall on your face in embarrassment."

"Embarrassment?"

"Yes, Sarah, embarrassment. I didn't want to tell you this, but your talents have always been more in your looks than in your performance."

"You're a fine one to talk, the last commercial you did they had to voice over because you sounded too young for the product they were trying to sell."

"They had to do the voice over because that guy had the accent they wanted but not the look."

Sarah's eyes filled with pity, "Awh, is that what they told you?"

"To hell with you Sarah," Christian said evenly as he slunk back to their room. "Not only will I not be around when you fall on your face, I may not be around at all much longer. I don't know what's gotten into you, but it is not attractive."

"What's gotten into me? What has gotten into me? You walk around here like a... like a king. I cook, I clean, I pick up odd jobs sewing to get us money to pay the rent while you wait for the golden role to fall in to your lap. It's not what's gotten into me, it's what's finally coming out of me." He looked up at her one more time, defeated and showing sadness for probably the first time since they'd met. "Let's just say that someone's convinced me I deserve better."

At that, Christian closed the door. Sarah ran her hands through her hair. "What just happened?" Sure it all needed said, but part of her was frightened by the idea that she had actually upset the impenetrable male she shared a home with. Her intention had been to sit with him calmly and finally release what was dammed up inside of her, but the way he came home loaded with packages, the way he talked about his grandmother. It was enough to infuriate her to the point of losing control. Regret was setting in. Sure it felt good to speak her mind, but what good would it do her to end up alone. Christian's jobs weren't frequent, but when they came, they paid well. The jobs she got were minimal on the pay scale. It was too soon for her to realize that without him she could take better job offers. Too soon for her to realize that freedom sometimes began as pain.

Just as the tears started to fall again, the telephone mounted to the wall behind her began to ring. "Hello," she peeped out, trying her best to sound pleasant.

"Sarah? Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, yeah. Fine." The voice on the other end of the phone was her agent. "I, ah, just came up the stairs."

"Well maybe you should sit down."

A few steps behind her was one of the breakfast stools which she immediately used to her advantage. It wasn't often your agent suggested you have a set. "What is it?"

"There auditioning for Eponine and I got you a six o'clock spot." he accentuated the pronouns for emphasis.

"Eponine?"

"Yes, Eponine. You know Les Misérables? Sarah are you sure you're alright?"

"I'm auditioning for Eponine." Nervous laughter escaped her throat as she said loud enough for Christian to hear, "I'm auditioning for Eponine!"

"I knew you'd be excited."

"Excited," Sarah said, "I'm positively thrilled! I've got to find something to wear. My hair needs done, my nails."

"You need to rehearse. Make sure you practice Sarah. If you nail this audition, it could mean everything for you," her agent reminded her. "Now I'll see you tomorrow night at six"

"I'll be there at ten till." She cradled the phone and charged into the bedroom.

Christian was propped up on one elbow setting his new watch to match the alarm clock. Ignoring him, she pulled a bra out of her dresser and slid it under her sweat shirt, fastening it in the back. Quickly smearing on some lipstick, she grabbed her purse and turned to leave. "Where do you think you're going?"

"I have an audition tomorrow," Sarah said with more pride in her voice than had been there in a while.

"So I heard," he replied smugly, "but that doesn't answer my question. Unless you intend to be there incredibly early, where are you going?"

"I need a few things to clinch the audition," She told him checking her wallet to make sure she had the credit card.

Christian was on his feet in a flash, "You don't think you're going to use that card do you? Not after your martyr's speech."

Slowly, a smile rolled across her lips. "What's good for the goose," she said picking up her keys from the bureau and closing the bedroom door behind her.

Hours later, Sarah came quietly back through the front door, a long garment bag folded over her arm. Christian was asleep when she looked into the bed room. Just as well she thought. Finely manicured hands worked the hanger over the edge of the closet door. She removed her wool coat and folded it over the back of the chair. A reflection in the toaster caught her eye. Huge locks of thick black curls hung from her head. The salon had done wonders with just a few hot rollers and a quick trim. Suddenly, she felt alive again. It was like the early days, before Christian had so much say over her. The electricity in preparing for this audition was tingling through her whole body. Music played in her head, her feet powerless to resist it as they moved around the floor. Her voice wanted to sing, but was denied. Waking the man in the next room would only end all this joy. Sarah wasn't about to let that happen. She settled into the couch. Tonight it felt like a king-sized bed. She tucked her legs in with the throw, but no sleep was going to be gotten tonight. The calendar swore that it was only late October, but her heart felt like it was Christmas.

"You've got to sleep," she told herself, "otherwise you'll show up tomorrow with huge bags under your eyes. You'll be lucky if they offer you the Thénardier part then."

Sarah closed her eyes, picturing her performance. Her new dress showing off the body Christian so easily overlooked. Dreams began to overtake her and sleep did eventually settle in. Visions filled her subconscious. The street outside her apartment covered in a thick fog. It had been raining and the pavement sparkled as the streetlights reflected off the black top. Sarah's wool coat was just a bit tattered and her fingertips, no longer manicured, poked out the end of several fingers of her gloves where the cotton had worn away. A floppy hat pulled over her curls that were no longer thick and full, but matted and tangled. Though she saw herself alone, she was talking on and on to no one in particular. Step by step, Sarah confessed more to a faceless someone who seemed to stride beside her. After a pause, as though she were yielding to a reply, she smiled. Drawing her coat tighter around her, she danced in circles down the street, dragging her feet in the puddles on the road. She stopped and leaned against a mailbox, a look of joy spreading over her face. "I love you," her lips motioned in the gentle glow of the streetlight. Sarah's head tilted back, her eyes shut. Her closed lips parted as though she was receiving a gentle kiss. The point of view for Sarah's dream changed as she found herself inside her body, rather than watching it omnipresently. A small jolt ran through her as she adjusted. The street scene was no longer vivid. Instead, a chilled breeze blew over her cheeks, a few stray hairs caressing her face. The streetlights now no more than a glow through her closed lids. Sarah felt soft lips on hers. The kiss was gentle and warm, filled with love. She smiled against the mouth of the man she was with. Her arms uncrossed her chest and reached for him. In return he embraced her waist and pulled her to him, deepening the kiss. The man's bottom jaw bobbed rhythmically as his mouth massaged hers. His teeth tugging at her lips. His tongue working her mouth open further as their breath exchanged in heavy gasps. Sarah broke away from the kiss for air.

Her fingers rose to her lips. They felt warmer and fuller than normal. Without his mouth to cover hers the chill of the night air blew across them making her shiver. Slowly, Sarah opened her eyes in search of his warm touch once more. He stood before her, tall and lean. His clothes far more royal than hers. A long coat glittering with jewels that reflected the light. A high collar met with the brim of a hat that obscured his face. Sarah smiled. She had been dreaming that she were Eponine and here with her as if by magic appeared her Marius. Her tender hand reached for his cheek. Turning his head to face her, she marveled in the fascinating shade of blue that enveloped the deep black center of his eyes. His face felt chiseled, his features defined. There was a familiarity to him. He smiled back at her showing his teeth. The incisors were slightly pointed making him seem devilish. Having surveyed his face, Sarah's concentration returned to his eyes. He moved into the light. As one onyx pool shrunk to the size of a pin point, the other remained wide. His mouth reached for hers again. Sarah extended her arm keeping him at some distance, causing hurt to seep into those captivating mismatched eyes. "Jareth?"

Sarah sat up on the couch, clutching the throw to her. Her eyes shifted around the apartment that suddenly seemed foreign to her. Out the window she could see the streetlights shining. A shaking hand reached up to her mouth where her lips still trembled from the feel of the kiss in her dream. Inside her chest Sarah's heart beat as though she had just run home from the lake, where as a child she rehearsed her acting. Out of the corner of her eye she could have sworn she'd seen a snowy barn owl fly past her window. "Not in New York," she reasoned. "That's just not possible."

The Goblin King sat on a bench in the garden outside his castle. His long legs curled up on the bench, his riding crop swatting at his black leather boots. Had sunrise ever taken so long to come to the Underground before. Jareth manifested a few crystals and floated them off into the sky. Just as he was about to roll the last one off the edge of his gloved hand, a thought occurred to him. He plucked it back out of the air and tucked it into the pocket of his coat. "No point in leaving without my keys," he noted.

Golden liquid seemed to fill the sky and drip down over the castle grounds. Sunrise had come after all. Hoggle appeared at the doors which led out to the garden. He looked at his king with pity in his eyes. Jareth was walking along the Labyrinth wall, carefully examining each brick, attempting to locate what before sunrise he had seen as a very obvious entryway. He stood to lose or gain so much by this fool's journey he insisted on taking. There was a heart beating beneath his chest, even if it hadn't always seemed that way. Carefully Hoggle approached him. "Yer majesty, I wondered if you would need a hand in getting started."

"Indeed," Jareth said now beginning to look high and low rather than just straight ahead. "How does one get into the Labyrinth?"

The dwarf pointed ahead and to their right as his directions rolled off his tongue, "You gets in ... there."


	6. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER SIX - JOURNEY OUT OF THE UNDERGROUND**

The stone walls rose high around the king as he looked left and right. 'It doesn't look that far.' The words echoed in his head. "It's further than I think," he said out loud. "Well then I have thirteen hours to reach Sarah Williams before I lose my magic over mortals forever. Won't get there standing still." Jareth took his first steps. It felt odd, not using his magic to drop in and out of wherever in the Labyrinth he chose. Instead he plugged along, the heals of his boots clicking off the stone beneath his feet.

By the end of his first hour, Jareth had yet to come across any secret passage ways that would take him deeper through the Labyrinth. "Insane," he shouted.

"Please don't shout!"

Jareth's head turned left and right searching for the source of the request. "Who said that?"

"Down here."

At his feet there was a snow white bunny rabbit. No larger than an average cat he sat there staring up at Jareth, two pink eyes surrounded by tufts of white fur. "A bunny!"

"Correction," small lips beneath a twitching nose formed the words, "I'm not just a bunny. I am _the_ bunny, the Easter Bunny and these ears are very sensitive."

"What are you doing in my Labyrinth?"

"Your highness, if I were you, I would stop taking for granted that you can accomplish all things without the assistance of others."

"And if I were you, I would stop wasting my time," Jareth told him.

"Suit yourself," the bunny shrugged. "Gandor sent me to help you in your journey though the maze, but if you don't need my help, I'll just go back to the coop and keep getting ready for next year."

"Gandor. The representative of the southwestern sector?"

"Do you know some other Gandor?" the rabbit was already hoping away from the king.

"Why would Gandor send anyone to help me?" Jareth wondered aloud.

Still hopping away, the rabbit said, "Beats me. He said something about things here being a lot better with you not being so preoccupied."

"Really." Jareth ran a gloved finger across his chin. "Well then rabbit, lead on, by all means."

"Hope you can keep up." He hopped away at lightning speed, leaving Jareth running behind him at his best pace still barely able to keep the creature in his sights. After nearly a mile of hard running, the two stopped before an urn in the corner of one of the Labyrinth's dead ends.

"A lot of good you've done me!" Jareth growled between gasps to replenish his oxygen supply.

"Have faith Goblin King," the bunny replied. "Crawl inside the urn and follow the ladder to the bottom. If you can make it through the hall of riddles, you'll be half way through the Labyrinth in just under an hour."

"For your sake, Easter bunny, I hope you're right. Otherwise, I'll find you and put you out of my misery."

"It would kill you to just say thank you?"

Jareth grunted as he slid his legs into the urn. His long stride took the rungs two at a time until he felt himself on solid ground once again. It was pitch black all around him. "It's an oubliette! That overgrown cotton ball led me straight into an oubliette!" He moaned, "Argh, and I fell for it. Damned Gandor, probably part of some plan to take my castle, well I won't have it!" He threw down his arms.

"Ouch," something cried as his flailing arm made contact with its entire body.

As it slammed against the wall, a spark lit up the darkness. Jareth tried to spy a glimpse of what it was, but it was useless. Before he could focus the glow was gone. The Goblin King felt something tickle his face and moved to swat it away. Then he remembered how he had just knocked something senseless. "Mind giving us some light then," he asked.

"Glad to oblige king, but first you must solve our riddle." A choir of small voices responded to his request.

The Goblin King was not much for riddles unless they worked to his advantage, but it seemed as though these riddles were his best chance at getting back to Sarah and regaining his magic. "Bring on your riddle."

"What begins its life on four legs," a choir by his right ear began.

"Lives its life on two legs," a second choir near his nose continued.

"And ends it's life on three legs," a final choir above him said.

Jareth thought a moment of all the creatures in his Labyrinth and all the creatures of his kingdom. Not a one seemed to fit such an odd description. 'Perhaps I'm being a bit narrow-minded' he considered. There was a chorus of laughter about him. "What are you laughing at?" he asked angrily.

"If it takes you this long to answer the easiest of the bunch, you may have taken the wrong shortcut."

"I will not be laughed at," he stated coldly trying to find someplace to direct his focus, but no matter how he turned all shades of black were the same.

"You're King of the Goblins, ruler of the Underground, Jareth. Here in the Labyrinth we follow a command of our own so to say." The voice came from nowhere and everywhere all at once. It surrounded Jareth and it vibrated from within him. "Especially those of us in the more remote locations."

"Who is that?"

"I'm the voice of all your father's fathers. I have seen and done everything since there was nothing. You will not ask the questions here, you will only answer."

The mighty Goblin King fumbled for his words. He had felt much power in the voice that surrounded him. Certainly more than he had right now. Just knowing such a presence could detect him and tune into his thoughts that way made him feel small and naked. There was no doubt that he needed to get his head together. "Begins on four, lives on two and finishes on three." He repeated it several times. There in the dark, his thoughts turned to the mortal. Suddenly the answer seamed clear, "Man."

All around him hundreds of tiny lights began to flicker in the darkness. "Well done," they chimed. Jareth watched the fire fairies buzzing around. They continued to giggle as he fought back the thought that it was him they laughed at. "Follow us," a tiny one at the back whispered. Before he had time to object, he was creeping behind them, desperate for the light they were providing.

"Where are we going?"

"Patience king."

"I really haven't the time for games," Jareth stated firmly, his goal at hand consuming his thoughts.

"There are times when one must take detours from what they wish to learn in order to learn what they must." The voice was warm and Jareth looked toward its source. The figure sat in a throne five times as royal and ten times as large as the one he left in Hoggle's care.

"My Lord," Jareth bowed before him. Laughter filled his ears, a few hundred tiny giggles and one deep belly laugh that echoed from the walls.

"Rise child. I am not your Lord, though the compliment is much appreciated." A smile was still set on the lips of the giant. It could be clearly seen safely tucked between his snow white mustache and long full beard. "Come now up, up, up. The sooner you solve my riddle the sooner you can finish this Labyrinth Jareth."

"How do you know my name?"

"The same way you know mine. We're a bit of legend you and I." He bent his head down to come closer to the Goblin King.

"But I don't know..."

"On with this then. Until I am measured I am not known, but how I am missed once I have flown."

"Time," Jareth said almost instantly. "You're Father Time."

"And you are correct on both counts." More of the giant's thunderous laughter came and went.

"What do you mean both counts." The Goblin King was beginning to hate these riddles more and more.

"I mean I am Father Time and you have solved my riddle. You may pass." With that the giant rose and a door opened in the base of his throne. It was plenty big for Jareth to fit through, but he just stood there mumbling about not having given an answer to any riddle.

"Don't look a gift horse in the mouth," one of the fire fairies said as they buzzed passed his ear and through the door. A group of fifty or so pushed into his back attempting to urge him forward.

"But, I didn't..." The door shut behind the last of the fire fairies and Father Time's laughter could still be heard. "I didn't even answer him," Jareth confessed now that they were through.

A fire fairy intentionally flew into the side of his head, "We know you didn't intend to, but the answer to the riddle was time." Their tiny giggles setting each other off in a round robin.

Jareth rolled his eyes, "I knew that, I just think it would have be nice if he would have let me answer him properly." His excuse only served to increase their laughter until one of the older fairies began to continue through the tunnel and the others followed suit.

The party continued until they came to a large stone wall. "What am I supposed to do about this?" Jareth asked throwing his hands up in the air.

"We'll help you look for a lever or a switch," a few fairies yelled out.

Jareth had already begun feeling over the wall's face looking for something himself and told them with a fair amount of irritation in his voice that their assistance was less than necessary, but just as he had finished chastising the little fellows he lifted his head and an amazing sight caught his eye. The illumination they gave off as they flew about was making words carved into the stone quite apparent. Jareth changed his tone immediately, "Fly up near the wall, space out a bit." Each fairy stopped and stared at him without budging to comply with his demand. "Well." Still nothing. "Please," he muttered, "please would you space out around the wall?"

"But of course your highness," they chimed as they took their places around the hidden text.

He read the words aloud, "Each morning I appear to lie at your feet. All day I will follow no matter where you go, no matter how fast you run, but I shall nearly perish in the noon day sun." Jareth began to pace back and forth before the wall. His fingers rubbed his chin in frustration. Hanging his head he stared at his shoes. "Appear to lie at my feet," he repeated. A few of the fairies began to imitate him. Pacing behind him just over his shoulders. He stopped. They stopped. He turned about to face them agitated by their mockery. The ones closest to him, smiled and pointed down. Jareth looked at the dark spot on the floor. He moved his hands and the spot changed to. By now, even the Goblin King was laughing, "My shadow," he cried kicking his legs around as his murky reflection did the same.

The wall began to recede. Quite pleased with himself, Jareth led his entourage through the newly opened passage way. In fact he was so preoccupied with his success that he failed to notice that his shadow had fled despite the promises the riddle had made him. Jareth continued on in the tunnel completely unaware of the deserter. They hadn't gone more than 75 feet or so when they came upon a tiny door which wouldn't have accommodated Jareth's foot let alone his entire stature. "How my going through that then?" he asked.

"Suppose you won't be," one of the fairies said.

"Guess you best think up something else," said another.

"I imagine one of you might be small enough to fit through," Jareth hinted.

"Suppose we might," yet another of the fairies agreed.

"If someone were to ask," another added.

"Nicely," contributed a fourth.

"Yes, well would one of you please try the door and let me know what's on the other side," he found himself conceding to their wishes.

"Come on gang," one cried and within moments they were all rushing through the door.

"Wait a minute," Jareth screamed after them as his side of the door was getting darker and darker. "Why do all of you need to go?"

"Because that is the way it is done," one of the last remaining fairies commented.

The tiny door shut and Jareth sat alone in the dark once more. After about five minutes he grew impatient and began to shout for them. When their reply was less than immediately forthcoming, he began to beat on the wall that separated them, "Hello? Can you hear me?"

It took all of them shouting at the same time for him to hear their reply. "Yes, yes. The riddle is on this side of the wall."

"Well than read it to me," Jareth shouted his own voice pummeling his ears once again.

"Ready?"

Growing frustrated he replied, "Yes! YES!"

"You've heard me before, yet you hear me again, then I die until you call me again."

"Argh!" he shouted yet again and began pacing the floor. From the middle of the room he heard a small refrain as he shouted "I despise riddles!"

"Riddles...riddles...riddles..." the walls rebounded his sound. Just the clue he needed.

"Echo!" He was laughing now himself. Laughing, loud and full. In fact he was bent over holding his knees when the door began to enlarge. "Remarkable," he commented as he walked through rejoining the fire fairies who were still providing the much needed light for him to complete his mission. "Thank you," he said as he rejoined them.

Together they plodded onward. They were going down, deeper into the Underearth. The ground was getting softer beneath the feet of the king and he couldn't help but notice that his boots were sticking with each step. Before long the party found themselves coming upon a pond. It stretched the entire width of the tunnel. Jareth picked up a handful of pebbles that were along the tunnel and tossed them into the center of the pond. It was deep, deeper than he could walk across.

"Swim across then," some of the fairies suggested.

"I do not swim."

"Do not or cannot?" another group inquired.

"Regardless," he said timidly.

The fire fairies began to link together and span the pond, "Perhaps we can help you with this one."

Bewildered, he stared at them. What they were doing was fascinating. Before his eyes a bridge was forming. "What am I supposed to do now?" he asked as the last few took their spots.

"Walk across," they chimed.

"I'll crush you," he objected his voice filled with concern.

"Learn to trust Goblin King. We are far stronger than we appear."

A certain amount of hesitation was evident in his rigid form as he raised a foot. The first step was wary, but with each succession ease set in. Sighing heavily, he touched down on the opposite side of the pond. Something about the flickering lights mirrored in the water drew his attention and he gazed into the pool. "Uncanny," he said as he flicked his head back and forth between the water and the fairies which flew above it. Their tiny lights were forming words in the water despite their haphazard flight patterns. "You can see nothing else when you look in my face. I will look you in the eye and never tell you a lie." Jareth buried his face in his hands. "Have I mentioned that I despise riddles?"

"Look again. The answer is before your eyes." They were comforting him, an emotion the king had not experienced often in the hundreds of years he'd been alive.

Carefully he hung himself over the water's edge and peered into the water once more. "I don't see anything more than my own reflection," he said. "My reflection!" It came over him and brought more laughter with it. Despite what he had claimed about not enjoying riddles. It had been some time since the Goblin King had laughed like this. "Come," he called to his companions, suddenly filled with great eagerness, "let us continue."

It was much more difficult struggling up the hill than it had been to work his way down. Jareth found himself envying the little creatures for their wings. At the crest of the hill he could see a large metal door and it gave him the added encouragement he needed to press on. At the top, he bent over trying to catch his breath. "Much easier to go down," he said sparking a chorus of giggling from above.

The fairies moved around the door looking for the riddle. Finally someone cried, "Over here." The rest all came to look and light the way. "What's it say?"

Jareth eyed the plaque carefully, brushing away some dust before he read the inscription, "If you break me, I do not stop working. If you touch me, I may be snared. If you lose me, nothing will matter." The eyes of the Goblin King grew dark. All about him the fairies chattered, trying to help solve the riddle.

"Your highness," they finally said, "regrettably, we are unable to help you with your challenge."

A soft grey glove rose toward them and Jareth turned his head away, "Regrettably I do not require your assistance for I only too well know the solution to this mystery." There was a pause and in the darkness he hid so that his other glove could wipe away a tear from his left eye. "The answer is your heart."

Floating before them came a gold key with a long red tassel attached to the handle. Jareth reached out and roughly snatched it, his anger at showing emotion getting the better of him. Shoving it into the keyhole between the metal doors he gave the thing a turn and stepped back. The room before him was filled with light. The fire fairies went dim.

Ahead Jareth could see two torches lighting a stone staircase. Feeling confident, he took a few steps toward it. It became clear to him that none of the creatures who had accompanied him this far were moving. He turned to face them, "Guess I'll go this one alone," he smiled. For the first time in longer than he remembered, the Goblin King smiled a genuine smile. Turning to leave, he made it only a few steps before he paused once more, "Thank you." This time he wasn't just saying the words, rather the words dripped with sincerity. Jareth's words were clear and as foreign to the ears of the creatures in the Labyrinth as they had been to his own mouth. This journey was already changing him. With the burdens of ruling a kingdom lifted, with no magic for him to hide behind, it was easier to be kind. There was nothing to defend.

Ascending the stairs, Jareth began to fear the power that he felt. It was the same sensation that had overcome him back when the first riddle had begun. That same booming sound that filled all the space between them. Light bathed over him in lavender hues that seemed to soothe him. It felt warm, a soft breeze seeming to run through the space, kissing at Jareth's face like a million pixies. His fear started to fade away. More gently than before, the voice called to him, "Goblin King?"

"Yes."

"Do you know who I am now?" it asked him.

Jareth had some idea what it was he stood before. "Is that my riddle?"

"I don't engage in things quite so silly as riddles, son. In truth, whether you answered each of my pets' riddles correctly or not, it is I who has the power to pass you through and I ask only one thing of you."

There was amazing morality in his voice as he spoke and it frightened Jareth in an entirely new way. One that made him fear not for his life, but for his soul. "Anything you ask of me I shall do," he vowed lowering a knee to the ground.

"You have done it already. You have learned to rely on others, you have learned to show gratitude." It was true. His final thanks to the fire fairies had been sincere. "I would have thought it would have killed you."

"Rabbit, is that you?"

Laughter filled the chasm and shook the walls. "I am indeed. I am the Rabbit. I am Santa Clause. I am everything mythical and everything mortal. I am the sun and the moon and the tide that guides them all." Jareth felt a lump in his throat. "Do not fear me. I have made you and I could never destroy one of my own creations, for I have a great unconditional love for all of them. I have given you my great abiding love and I have made you capable of love Jareth, King of the Goblins. I think you believe that now and I shall one day make you free, for now though I shall make you free of this tunnel."

"I confided only to the Cleric that I felt those things," his voice wavered.

"Even when you confide in only yourself, I hear. I hear all things. The wind is my servant."

"As am I." Jareth vowed, "As am I." His eyes closed and when the light faded he opened them again, only to find himself standing in an open patch in the Labyrinth. Stunned he looked all around. Sun's golden rays replaced the lavender softness that had held him. Jareth blinked a few times trying to adjust to the change.

"Who goes there?" a small voice requested.

"King of the Goblins," he replied.

From behind a topiary came a small fox. His unruly ivory white whiskers and brows furrowed in deep concern. "I feel that I must warn you, sire, that I am sworn to protect the Lady Sarah from anyone, anywhere, anytime."

"So you are," Jareth chuckled bending down to meet him eye to eye. "Fear not dutiful knight, you've no one to protect from me." Sir Didymus examined him suspiciously. "It's true. I have no magic to use against her. The lady has nothing to fear."

Raising his scepter over his head, Sir Didymus brought a mighty thump down upon Jareth's white blonde mane. The king stood, rubbing his head and scowling at the tiny antagonizer. From behind him came a throaty chuckle, more like a roar. He turned to find Ludo, a hand on one knee, trying to suppress his laughter.

"You find that humorous great beast?" Jareth asked him.

"It's true. The king is without his magic," Sir Didymus announced.

"King baaad," Ludo moaned.

"My good brother, our king has changed." Sir Didymus scurried up to Ludo's shoulder. "The day was when such insubordination against the king would result in death, but as you see, I am very much alive." Grabbing two handfuls of fur he swung himself down from the giant and stood at the feet of the king. "What business have you with milady?"

"How do you know my business is with the mortal?"

"Word spreads quickly in this maze, my liege. Everyone is aware you hunt the mortal. Vowed to kill her in her sleep the way..." Sir Didymus stopped suddenly.

"The way my grandfather murdered his brother?" Jareth completed the thought for him. "Is that what they say?"

"King baaad," Ludo repeated.

The fox nodded to the king. "My but it didn't take long for them to turn my family's past against me."

"Then what is it you intend to do?"

"Sir Didymus, I wish to see Sarah so that I may ask her to restore my magic. If she agrees, I will return to my world without further inconvenience."

"And were milady to disagree?"

Sadly, Jareth hung his head, "I would lose far more than my magic."

"Ludo miss Sar - rah," Ludo whined.

"When you see milady," Sir Didymus began, "please tell her that we miss her tenfold and would be happy to pay her a visit, if she were only to call."

Jareth reached a hand out to the small fox. "Indeed I shall kind knight." He turned to Ludo, "and you gentle beast, it was a pleasure." He took his leave of the two and began his quest again.

"Best of luck to you," he heard Sir Didymus shout.

The king chuckled, "Luck, I don't need luck," he declared.

No sooner did the words fall from his lips, did the king himself fall through the floor. The stones seemed to part and swallow him up and he was gently tumbling down. He could see nothing in any direction, only a light below that got closer and closer. 'I wonder if this fall shall ever end,' he thought after several minutes.

Beneath him the light grew sharper and he could make out the mantle of a fireplace. With a thud he landed on the overstuffed cushions of a green leather sofa. "Oof!" he exclaimed. A few seconds later he realized where he was. "I'm back at the beginning, back in my chambers. That's not fair! I was over halfway through, why did you bring me back here," he yelled into the vaulted ceiling.

From the master bath there came a form. Tall and regal, dressed all in black. A high collared coat, framing his face. Even his hair was dark. He took long slow strides towards where Jareth sat. Now in the fire light, Jareth looked up into his own eyes. His mouth went agape. "Will wonders never cease?" the Shadow King remarked. "Look at you, you pathetic excuse for a king. I should have taken you over years ago."

"You're not real," Jareth told his double. "You're just a trick of the Labyrinth, some magic designed to detain and discourage me."

"I am the Labyrinth. I am that thing you cannot control. All evil things you do and think are mine. I am your bloodlust. I am your shadow." Jareth looked down, finally noticing that his shadow no longer sat at heels.

So this is where his shadow had run off to when they were in the middle of that tunnel. Jareth rose a gloved hand to his nemesis, "You are not king. But I am and, as king, I forbid you."

"You forbid me what?"

"That is all, I forbid you."

The Shadow King roared again with uncontrollable laughter, "You forbid me. Your mortal blood has given you conceit. You cannot deny me Jareth. I am as much a part of you as your own skin." Which for Jareth was now beginning to crawl. "You must wonder if you could destroy me and still survive." He reached high above the mantel and brought down the iron sword. "Let me make it easy for you." Holding the sword by both the hilt and blade, the Shadow King tossed it to Jareth, "Go on. Plunge it into my heart and I will die."

Jareth rolled the sword at his side, the point of the blade making powder of the marble floor beneath them. "It goes against the code to engage an unarmed man."

"Since when has the code stopped you from anything? You can't do it Jareth." he spat. "You could no more pierce my heart with your grandfather's iron blade than you could pierce your own. We are two sides of the same coin. Without me, you would lose what little edge you have. Without me to consume them, your evil thoughts would devour you."

Again he shouted, "You are not real!"

The Shadow King laughed heartily, "And you, Jareth, how are you enjoying my Labyrinth?"

"It's a piece of cake," he tried to say convincingly.

"Then how about upping the stakes," with a wave he spun the hands of the nearby clock ahead four hours.

"That's not fair," Jareth said.

"You say that so often," the form retaliated, "I wonder what your basis for comparison is?" The Shadow King tipped his head as he walked passed the king. "So the Labyrinth's a piece of cake is it? Well, let's see how you deal with this little slice." He released a crystal on the far side of the chambers and disappeared. As it came closer, Jareth made out the form of the cleaners. 'Had he really been this cruel to Sarah when she tried to work the Labyrinth?' Jareth thought. With haste he picked up the sword still at his side and pulled it back over his left shoulder. One mighty swing struck the door leading out of the bed chamber. Then another. The hinges were beginning to give way.

"Third times a charm," Jareth said, replacing the sword to his shoulder and swinging with all that he had. As the blade made contact with the hinges one last time, it vanished from the king's hands. Desperately he pushed his weight against the door, but to his surprise was met with no opposition and the Goblin King stumbled out, back into another of the Labyrinth's interior halls. He whipped his head back over his shoulder in search of the cleaners. Only a stone wall remained. A second later something in front of him caught his attention.

"Allo," a small voice cheered.

"Did you just say, 'allo?" Jareth asked, face to face with a tiny blue worm.

"Yeah, I did," he confirmed. "Tea's on, care to join me and the missus?"

"No really I mustn't." Jareth raised himself to his knees and elbows.

Offended, the little worm chastised him, "Now listen here. You can't just come tumbling through someone's perfectly good wall and not stay for tea." The worm crawled through his hole and Jareth watched wondering how the little fellow expected him to follow. A moment later, the tiny creature peeked out again, "Sorry 'bout that. Very rude of me not to point out the guest entrance." He gave a nod to a recession in the wall a foot or so away from his worm hole. Warily Jareth crawled through. The king stood, amazed at how high the ceilings were in a home made for creatures less than two inches tall. "Careful now, you almost stepped on the guest chair," his host pointed out from a ledge he crawled along that kept him eye level with the king.

"So sorry," Jareth said.

"Well than have a seat, Goblin King."

"You know me then," he commented.

"Doesn't every creature of the Labyrinth?"

"And you might be?" he asked the worm.

"I'm Winston." He gestured toward the guest chair as he began to descend the wall so that he might join his guest. "Have a seat. Jena will be along with the tea in just a moment."

Jareth looked at the chair and then back at Winston. The chair was tinier than Jareth's fingertip. "Go on, go on," the worm encouraged, "you'll see."

Stooping over the chair Jareth did his best not to fall. Suddenly he felt the chair rise up to meet his backside and slid comfortably into the seat. Once seated, it became apparent that the worm's home was a series of ledges designed so its inhabitants could accommodate guests of all sizes. Winston made himself comfortable to Jareth's right, just inside his peripheral vision. He was glad he could still maintain eye contact with his host, after all, he'd already offended him once by attempting to leave when he was asked in for tea. "Quite nice," Jareth remarked smoothing the arms of the chair.

"It's our pleasure to have you," Winston said smiling wide.

Jena bowed her head before the king. "Your grace. How would you like your tea?"

"A splash of cream and two lumps," Jareth replied. "Thank you."

"My pleasure," she said, using some silk threads she had spun to lift the cup toward the king. Much like the chair accommodated him, the teacup grew to size when accepted by his palm.

The three talked on for two more cups of tea, before Jareth adamantly excused himself. "It's not that I don't appreciate your hospitality, it's only that I have just a few more hours to complete my task." Jena grew sad. Jareth lifted her eyes to his proclaiming, "This rest has served me well." When he stood to leave the chair shrunk to barely noticeable again. Winston walked him to another wall. Jareth bowed to Jena, "Milady," and extend his hand to Winston.

Winston eyeballed him for a second until Jareth realized that he had nothing to shake. They both enjoyed a laugh. "Anyway, my thanks again for your hospitality." Laying his hand against the wall he slid it to the left until it met with the opening. Then proceeded through and turned left.

"Not that way," Winston cried. "Never go that way!"

Jareth thought a moment about turning around and going right, but remembered what he had learned. Don't go off half-cocked, rely on others. "Why is that Winston?"

"If you keep on going that way, you'll wind up outside the Labyrinth at the doors to the Aboveground."

The Goblin King pointed a gloved finger at his new friend, "Ah, and that is precisely where I want to be," he smiled.

"Suit yourself."

"I believe I shall," Jareth remarked stepping back out through the wall and continuing left. The tunnel went on forever, so it seemed. Jareth wondered if Winston was wrong. "Have a little faith Goblin King," he chuckled to himself.

It was five minutes past four and his time was growing short. In three hours and twenty minutes he would fail. Leaning against the wall discouraged, Jareth thought things through. He would still have to make his way through Sarah's world until he found his mortal. He could only guess at how long it would take him. "I've got to find my way out of here."

He began running down the corridor, almost two kilometers later, still no exit. But he had noticed his shadow back at his feet. While he was at a stand still , he took the opportunity to ground his foot into the darkness, stomping on it. "Back were you belong I see," he muttered. Jareth was overlooking something. He felt at the walls. Nothing. Jumped at the stone floor. Nothing still. "Argh," he screamed into the sky. When he lowered his head he found himself facing the back of a dressing table. "Can it be this easy?" Jareth thought. He walked around to face the mirror side of the table. All around it's frame, he could see her photographs. Her mother, her father. Smiles and newspaper clippings that told the story of a life he shared for a few short hours. He focused on the glass and spoke her name, "Sarah."

The reflective glass went hazy before his mismatched eyes. When things began to clear, there were mad streets polluted with vehicles of all sizes, large buildings rising up in the horizon, a sky of stars just beginning to pull night's blanket out from the horizon. Jareth rose his hand to touch the mirror. His fingers pushed through and on the other side he felt a cold breeze blow across his hand. The king pulled back a moment. 'This is going to be interesting,' he thought as he sized up the situation. First Jareth tried to lay the piece of furniture down on it's back, but it seemed drilled into the ground. Then he tried removing the mirror, but without tools or magic, it was no use. He feared that breaking the piece apart, would allow the magic to escape. And so with all other options depleted, he backed up several paces, charged at the mirror and dove head first into the reflective surface. Shards flew in all directions and the Goblin King was gone, swallowed up from the top of his high blonde mane to the tip of his black leather boots.


	7. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER SEVEN - AUDITION FOR TWO**

The dress had pleased her when she tried it on at the shop, but now together with her manicured hands and her done up hair, Sarah was blown away. A cowl neck swooped beneath her chin, just low enough to show off her collarbone. Sleeveless, it revealed her milky shoulders. A tight fitting bodice showed her figure and from the waist the ruby sequined fabric cascaded fluidly toward the floor. Beneath the hem, only the tips of black high heels poked out. But what amazed her most was the way it flattered her from behind. The back was cut out, coming together low at the waist, gathered in another swooping cowl neck that rested just on top of her backside. A high slit up the center of her skirt was the final compliment.

"Eponine was a pauper's daughter, not a whore," Christian commented from the bedroom doorway.

Sarah troubled herself to look at him while she slid a tiny diamond stud into her ear, "Jealousy is ugly on you."

"Yeah, well, be that as it may, I thought you'd like to know that I'll be moving out the day after tomorrow."

The news surprised her. In truth, she hadn't intended things to go this far. It was one thing to finally confess her true feelings, but another for him to leave. "Is that what you want?"

"It's what you want, isn't it?" he asked her. Part of him begged her with his eyes to say no. The last 24 hours had given him a chance to see how much she really did do for him and the last five minutes staring at her in that fantastically revealing dress was reminding him what she did for him in other ways. But in his heart, she could have easily said yes just the same. He'd move on, find someone else. Teach them to treat him as the man he saw himself to be.

Sarah didn't expect an ultimatum. Yet there he was, leaning against the door, trying to appear cavalier, telling her that it was either ask him to stay or say goodbye forever. "Christian, I'm heading out to meet my agent for a rehearsal before the audition. Can't we talk about this when I get back?"

"Sure," he said cheerfully. "I'm just going to shoot some pool with my brother. I'm sure I won't be out all that much later than you."

'Maybe this has done him some good' she thought as she picked up a black satin clutch from her dresser. 'With a little luck we can have that civil conversation I was hoping for tonight and put this whole ugly mess behind us.' Sheer pale lips met his cheek as she walked past him toward the living room.

"Good luck," he shouted as the door closed. Then he fell to the bed, holding up his head with his hands, "Glad she came around. Would have been a bitch trying to train another one."

Jareth's hands rose just fast enough to keep his face from connecting with the sidewalk he landed on. Street lights shown down into the alleyway he appeared in. No one seemed to take much notice, even though he remained in his Underground garb. He stood up, brushing himself off. The night wind blew cool against his revealed chest. For a moment he stopped to wish he'd packed something a bit more conducive to the conditions. Then it was off into a maze of another kind. Towering stone walls traded in for a city's grid work.

It felt somehow larger than the Labyrinth or perhaps just more unfamiliar, but there was that same feeling of uncertainty. Not knowing which direction to head off in first or what the immediate goal was, those were the familiarities. Bright lights were everywhere and yet the city was dark. Mortals lined the streets all on journeys of their own. There was dancing and singing. For a moment it occurred to Jareth that much of the human race behaved like fey. They enjoyed similar entertainments, libations and smoking. The culture distracted him for a moment. When he refocused on his mortal in specific, he thought, 'How odd his Sarah should live in such a place as this. 'Seemed as if only yesterday he sat on the post by the lake watching her recite from her book. Until the sky opened up and drenched them both as they flew through and over rural suburbia to the mortal castle she shared with her father, step-mother and half brother.

Had she really come from such a creamy beige beginning to this place, filled with its decadent colors and luscious textures, polluted by the same depravity they found dancing at the Underground ball? Sarah had fled that night, terrified by it all. Now she craved it or so it would seem. Jareth looked around for someone to ask questions of. They all seemed preoccupied. Talking into plastic hand pieces, shouting at each other, lovers kissed, hands venturing where even the brazen Goblin King dared only to go in the privacy of a bed chamber.

Turning the corner, he met with something solid. "Junk lady," he said curiously. There was a heap before him, cradled in a metal basket and mounted on wheels.

From the other side of the heap someone shouted back, "Who you calling junk lady?"

If he could be nothing else, the Goblin King could be charming, "Pardon me miss." He reached to take her hand, dropping a kiss on the back of it. Too bad fey had such a heightened senses. Not since his last visit close to the Bog of Eternal Stench had he smelled anything so fragrant. "I came 'round that corner in such haste that your petite frame escaped my vision entirely," Jareth told her, the woman's sausage fingers still in his grasp.

At this the woman giggled a bit, pulling away her hand to coyly cover her face. "Well you should watch where your going," she said with only mock irritation this time.

"Problem is I don't know where I'm going?"

"Whatcha mean you don't know where you're going?"

A nervous laugh replaced his silent smile. "It's true, dear woman," he spoke gently, "I haven't a clue where I'm going, or where I am for that matter?" She cocked one of her eyebrows at him. Jareth couldn't help thinking that if humans aged as fey did, this junk lady had to feel a thousand years old. When her eyes moved all the wrinkles of her face jumped with them. But beneath it all he saw something young and tender that had been mistreated. The streets grew cold in a new way.

"You're one of those new fangled method actors ain't ya?"

The Goblin King's head moved in a slow nod. He was still fascinated by what he saw inside this weathered woman.

"I thought so," she smiled showing a few missing teeth. "Now let me give you a bit of advice, the eighties are over. Although it never hurts to make an impression in New York, I'd say lose the teased my mullet look, but in those clothes, well they just might take you at the Peppermill."

"They call this New York?" he asked not hearing anything else.

"Oh, yeah, I get it." She reached into her cart, "Listen honey, don't waste it all on me." She pulled out a business card and handed it to Jareth. "Now if you hurry along and wait at the back door, when the auditions are over they throw out all the hors d'oeuvres and you can try to get their attention then."

It came to him then that this was not the life she'd chosen. She did not live in the street, collecting junk the way his junk lady in the Underground did. Instead she lived by the street, everything she owned was in this cart between them. Sorrow filled him.

"Can't get in the front door without an appointment," she told him, mistaking the look of compassion for one of offense. Her hand reached out to him again, this time a small spinach square in her palm. "Go on, they were throwing them out of the club across the street. I got four of them myself."

Raising a black leather glove and donning a crooked smile, Jareth politely said, "No thank you. I just ate yesterday."

"Well you don't have to brag about it," she grumbled as she pushed her cart away.

If he'd have had his magic, he'd have done something for the kind woman. Maybe even make her outside appearance reflect what he saw inside. Looking down at the card she'd given him, Jareth spun it end over end. In the back of his subconscious he heard an echo, "Learn to rely on others."

"In that case," the Goblin King wondered aloud, "I wonder how one gets to East 16th from here."

"I can't do this Stuart," Sarah shrieked as she stepped into the rehearsal hall.

He poured a glass of water and handed it to her, "You're just nervous because it's been so long since you've auditioned for something this huge."

Gulps of water soothed her throat. Stuart was garish, like all agents, but he really believed in Sarah and when he spoke to her, she fed off his confidence. Setting her glass down, she smoothed her hands over her dress. 'You can't look like this if you don't intend to steal the show,' she told herself. Sarah took her place at the microphone and from the first note Stuart knew he would showcase a star tonight. The smile that spread across his lips was one part confidence and one part cocky.

"You can't lose Sarah," Stuart told her, taking her hand to help her down from the rehearsal stage. "Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight? Something's different about you and I don't just mean a new dress and shoes."

Embarrassed by his compliment, she looked away. "Nothing, it's nothing. I just know how much I need to ace this audition. I'm putting my best foot forward."

"Well it's bringing the best of the rest of you along for the ride." Sarah fed her arm through Stuart's extended elbow and allowed him to steer her toward the main stage. "Go on," he gave her a little shove. "Try it out. We're still half an hour ahead of the producer. Get used to the way it feels now and by the time you sing you'll be able to act like you own it."

Her heals clicked on the polished planks that made up the stage. It was the largest stage she'd ever stood on. Even bigger than the one she graced when she was dancing CATS. Fear strangled her as she looked out into all the empty seats. Les Misérables was no small show. If Sarah got the part those seats would be full, full of people with high expectations for her. Could she live up to that kind of pressure night after night, performance after performance. She closed her eyes. At first she felt like she might cry. Tears were threatening beneath her lids, but a very unexpected thing chased them away. All around her Sarah could see the set dressing for the show. She could see spotlights mimicking streetlights behind their yellow gels. She spun in circles her arms outreached taking hold of light posts that weren't really there, "On my own..." she sang.

Stuart stood in amazement listening to the power in her voice. It was a new confidence that hadn't been there before and it wasn't coming from him either. This was coming from Sarah. She radiated like a beacon in the night sky and he had watched her come alive tonight. As she finished the first verse, his hands met in thunderous applause. "Brava," he cried.

Eyes snapped open and did the best they could to focus on the one man house that had brought an end to her show. Sarah gasped. If ever she had believed in magic. The room around her was still empty, the stage dark, the seats unfilled. Maybe Hoggle was right, she needed to believe in magic and more importantly, she needed to believe in herself. "There's no way they won't pick me," she yelped into the rafters as she thought to herself, 'had anything in life ever felt this good."

City block after city block Jareth read the street signs, he surveyed the buildings. His fey hearing was alert and sensitive. A half dozen young men were only a couple of blocks away, perhaps they could tell him where to find this Peppermill Theater described on the card he still held in his hand. As Jareth got closer to the men he could see that they wore jeans and leather jackets. Each of them was smoking a cigarette and three of them had long bottles in their hands. He glanced down at himself, "This ought to be good for a laugh," he said continuing his approach. "Begging your pardon, but might any of you be able to tell me the way to the Peppermill?"

"Yeah man I can show you the way to the Peppermill," one of them called out.

"Splendid!"

"Get back on the yellow brick road and don't stop until everything around you is black and white." His statement was followed by laughter and pointing.

"Yellow brick, really, I've only seen red bricks in my travels through your city."

His naivety only made them laugh harder. One of the men who'd been holding a beer bottle was now on the ground. "What, they don't let you use the dressing rooms anymore, now you chumps gotta parade the streets in your costumes?" A fresh face came walking out of the shadows toward the Goblin King. He looked a little softer than the rest of them. He tossed his cigarette to the ground and stomped it out.

"Yes, that's it! I've been locked out of my dressing room and I've got to get back to the theater, but I've gotten myself lost." Jareth made up an explanation as quickly as he could.

"Don't buy his shit Tony," one of the others cried out. "He's just like the rest of them, coming down here acting like they're better than we are because they play in those fancy theaters. You could out sing one of those bastards any day of the week."

"Tony, your name is Tony?" Jareth inquired. "I'm sure you sing like a lark, but I really just need to get to the Peppermill."

"Whatta ya say we make a deal tall, blonde and hairy?" He prowled around Jareth, eyeing him up and down, making it a point to show that for now he had the upper hand. Jareth took him rather seriously. Quarreling with a mortal, correction with seven mortals, broke the Triumvirate's rules.

"I'm listening," the Goblin King arched an eyebrow.

"My uncle's shop is right in there," Tony pointed behind himself. "He's a tailor. I'll get him to give you something normal to wear and in exchange you'll take me to the Peppermill with you and get me an audition."

"An audition?" Jareth asked.

Tony grabbed the lapels of the Goblin King's jacket and pulled him eye to eye, "You think I ain't good enough?"

"No, no, no. I'm sure you're plenty good. An audition it is then."

"Let's go," the young man said leading Jareth into his uncle's shop.

There were suits of all styles from tuxedos to tab collars and back again. Jareth's gloves smoothed over the shoulders of a grey herringbone jacket. Tony and his uncle had been talking in the corner and the older gentleman approached his newest customer, "My boy tells me you're getting him into the Peppermill."

"I suppose I am," Jareth told him.

"Names Vic," he grinned extending his hand.

The Goblin King shook it firmly, "Jareth," he replied.

"What kind of name is Jareth?" the old man laughed.

"Guess you might say it's a family name."

Vic heard something in the way he pronounced his a's, "You got an accent something awful."

"I'm not native to New York," Jareth told him.

"Well no one will know that when I finish with you," Vic took the herringbone jacket off the mannequin. "Take off your jacket." Jareth removed his coat. His blousy painter's shirt ruffled down his chest, the sleeves covering his gloves. "I can see we're going to have to start at the basement and work our way up. "Tony," he called, "bring your uncle a shirt, a sixteen."

The young man who seemed to dominate his friends was instantly on the heals of his uncle. Tony was already half dressed. He was wearing brown suit pants a cream colored shirt tucked into the waist band. His cuffs were unbuttoned and his collar raised, a silk tie around his shoulders. "Here ya go," he announced as he passed the shirt to his uncle.

Jareth slid out of his more elaborate clothing and into the plain white shirt being shoved into his hands. He buttoned three of the buttons and fussed with the collar. "Doesn't seem to hang right," he told Vic.

Screwing his face up, the tailor looked at Jareth before he did up the rest of the buttons and turned up the collar. The Goblin King grabbed at the collar and pouted out his lips, "The neck is too tight," he complained.

"It's fine," Vic told him. "Now, let's find you a nice tie to go with this jacket." Once the tailor had moved, Jareth caught sight of himself in a mirror on the wall. It wasn't so bad, not like he thought it would be. He tugged on the sleeves, "I can make this work."

"Here you are," the old man tossed the strip of silk over his head. It was black and had a subtle silver design running through it. The knot jabbed him in the throat but once Vic turned down the collar, it grew more comfortable. Holding up the grey herringbone once more, he motioned for Jareth to try it on. It slid easily over his shoulders and the fabric was weighty. It felt good on. The sleeves were just the right length and the silver of the tie complemented it nicely. "Have a look." Vic moved out of the way again.

One eyebrow raised, as he took in his reflection. Curiosity turned into a smug glare as he smoothed his hands over the jacket. "This is quite nice," he told Tony's uncle. "Thank you."

"Where you going?" Vic asked him when Jareth headed for the door. "We need to get you some pants and a sensible pair of shoes."

Half an hour later, the Goblin King had been transformed. His make up washed away, his tights, now made by Armani. Overtop his amulet a silk tie covered that part of his chest that would normally remain exposed. There were any number of pockets where Jareth could hide the crystal he'd brought along with him for safety's sake. He chose an interior breast pocket thinking it was the least conspicuous. Tony stared at him in disbelief, the difference was remarkable. "Hey," he said when he finished taking in the new Goblin King, "why not take off that idiotic wig."

"Wig?" Jareth questioned.

Tony reached up and yanked on his long blonde locks.

"I must ask you to stop this," he remarked grabbing the young man's hand, "before I become angry."

"Holy shit. That's real!"

"Very much so," Jareth said as he reshaped his mane.

"Uncle Vic, you any good at cutting hair?"

"Cutting hair?" the Goblin king repeated.

When they turned to face Vic, silver blades reflected the light from the room and Jareth was not pleased with the look in his eyes.

"Now nobody's gonna mess with you. You can walk right into the Peppermill and they'll respect you." Tony said to Jareth as they walked down the street toward the theater. "Now remember the plan alright? You're my agent Jeremy. Now the producer will be here with his assistant, but it's usually not the same guy who talks to the agents so act like you set the whole thing up days ago with someone called Skip or Bud or something like that. Then you gotta sell me, because he's gonna think we're up to no good. So you tell him how I've done a whole line of good shows, South Pacific, Chicago, Phantom." Tony was getting excited at just the idea of singing for a real New York producer. He'd heard about these auditions a month ago and just by luck this fellow that he met, this night of all nights, could be his ticket in. It was like it was meant to be. "You got all that?"

Jareth nodded but didn't speak.

"I said do you got all that?" Tony repeated, the desperation in his voice growing. Then it caught his attention, much the same as it had distracted Jareth. The neon lights that formed letters high into the New York skyline, their beams shining down on the men in the street below. Peppermill. Even to a fey it seemed magical.

While Jareth might not have understood auditions and theaters, he knew what it was like to chase a dream, to want what seemed unattainable. There as he looked at the face of the young man who'd changed him so dramatically, he read the same expression he'd seen on his own face. Tonight he would help this man fulfill his quest and the Supreme One willing, it would lead him further on his own. Jareth wrapped a grey glove around the handle of the door and pulled it open, "Clients first," he offered bowing low. Tony smiled as he walked through.

Almost immediately they were met by one of the producer's lackeys. "Wait a minute," he said in a particularly nasally voice, "these auditions are by invitation only."

Tony nudged the fey. "Ah, right you are, my friend. I did receive an invitation. The boy's name was Skip."

"Don't know no Skip."

"And you might be?" Jareth asked him.

"Folks call me Buddy," the producer's assistant told him.

Both Tony and Jareth wiped a brow when they heard this, glad that the Goblin King had chosen wisely. "Buddy, I know what it is. You've been working for the man a while now haven't you?" Buddy nodded. "He's gone and hired this greenie to manage his appointments. Break in some new blood he can pay minimum and work you out of the picture. But see what he doesn't realize is that you're the one who keeps it all together. Skippy boy didn't even remember to write my client here into the calendar." Jareth motioned at Tony as he smoothly stepped past Buddy. "But don't you worry," he said shaking a finger at the assistant while Buddy made his way to the front of the auditorium, "I'm going to tell him all about that inefficient Skip and how it almost cost him a star. How he owes his new leading male all to you Buddy." Jareth finished the speech with a sure wink.

"Yeah, you do that wouldya pal," the assistant called after the fey. "Sonofabitch never appreciates a damn thing I do for him anyway."

When Jareth managed to catch up to Tony again the young man slapped him hard on the back. "You were fantastic. Where'd you learn all that fancy bullshit? You really could be an agent you know, but nah, you'd rather act. I know. Bug bit me bout a year and a half ago. If I could get this gig, man, I'd be able to leave the streets. Earn myself a real living and owe it all to you. You're a good friend Jar...emy. I couldn't have even got through the door without you."

Jareth smiled. Auditions, singing, it all made sense. Tony was an actor and auditions had something to do with acting. He peered at the stage before them. The velvet curtains reminded him of home and the follow spot illuminating the floorboards reminded him of Sarah. His heart felt like it might crack. "Just don't waste this chance," he said softly. Whether it was directed at Tony or if he were talking more to himself was a mystery.

Buddy's hand was on Tony's shoulder and it made him jump. "What's your last name kid?"

"Monroe," he told him. "Tony Monroe."

"Well Monroe, you're up. Break a leg."

He looked back at Jareth as he headed down the aisle, "Thanks man. Thanks a lot."

Those were good words. Finally the Goblin King could see that. It was nice to say, and it was rewarding to hear. He felt himself swelling with pride as the young man took the stage. Jareth settled into a seat crossing his legs and resting his chin on his hand. The shadows hid his smile. What a pity? The Goblin King had a beautiful smile.

"Hey, my name is Tony Monroe," he said squinting into the follow spot. "I'd like to thank you for agreeing to see me today. I'm gonna audition for the role of Marius Pontmercy and I wanna do that by singing Empty Chairs at Empty Tables." To listen to him speak no professional in his right mind would have offered him a spot as third bus stop patron on the right. Then he cleared his throat and sipped his water before he opened is mouth and began to sing, "There's a grief that can't be spoken," he hung his head. "There's a pain goes on and on..."

The notes rang from his throat like a choir of bells. Knowing where he'd come from, it was obvious he couldn't have taken a lesson a day in his life. His talents were natural and it showed. Mortal magic Jareth thought was always something more, something more like what he did, creating crystals or transporting about without having to walk, but what was going on before him and how it felt inside him was more magic than any crystal he'd ever cast. Tony's eyes were a light and though he'd never lived through a war himself and had probably never found himself a sole survivor of a fallen barricade, it was impossible to tell. In the audience, you wept for him. You felt his pain.

Jareth's gloves pounded together when the last note rang, "...where my friends will sing no more." Tony's voice wavered and he stood still as stone.

Buddy looked at Jareth and drew his clip board across his neck. Not sure what he meant by the gesture, he halted his applause. When the motion stopped, the Goblin King guessed he had done as the man intended. Tony didn't care. He loved the sound of applause, even when it wasn't the professional response, it washed over him like summer rays of sunshine warming him noticeably.

Leaning into his assistant's ear, the producer mumbled a few words and Buddy stood, "Have a seat, we'll call you to sing in a duet once we've completed the remainder of the auditions."

Tony bowed in their direction and hurriedly took a seat next to Jareth. "Man, I know I got this gig. I know it." His front teeth bit at his lower lip as he tried contain himself. Finally he settled in to watch the remainder of the auditions. There were only two others auditioning for Marius. Both were formidable opponents, but none had what Tony had. That was fate. Fate working for him for once in his miserable life. At the end of the male auditions five men were asked to leave. Tony remained, seated next to Jareth.

The female auditions were about to begin. A small blonde woman took the stage. She wore a full blue dress. "My name is Casey Bakay. I'll be auditioning for the role of Fantine by singing for you Fantine's Death." After her came others who wanted to be Cosette, a handful of dancers who wanted to be singing whores, a few older women that liked the outlandish style of Mrs. Thénardier. They were each captivating in their own way, some better suited based on looks than others. Others just more talented, but sorely couldn't have been transformed into the part they sought even with make up and costume.

It was growing late. Jareth was itching to leave so that he could get back to finding Sarah. He tried excusing himself, but Tony wouldn't hear of it. "You can't go, you're my good luck charm."

With a sigh and a smile, the Goblin King sat back and focused on the stage so he could hide his disappointment from Tony.

"Thank you all for inviting me here tonight." The voice was familiar to his fey ears. "My name is Sarah Williams and I will be singing On My Own as I audition for the role of Eponine."

"Sweet Spriggans!" Jareth shouted.

"Ssshhh," Buddy chastised.

On stage, Sarah remained focused. Nothing was more important than what she was about to do. Not even a mouthy opponent from the shadows. She smiled sweetly, rubbing her sheer lips one over the other and then parted them slightly, barely enough to breath as she whispered into the microphone, "And now I'm all alone again, nowhere to turn no one to go to, without a home, without a friend, without a face to say hello to. And now the night is near, and I can make believe he's here."

Her last note was throaty and deep. Jareth was stunned by what he saw and what he heard. He rested on the edge of his seat wanting to jump up out of the chair and rush to the stage to take her in up close. Instead, the Goblin King was stuck in his seat, hidden from her by shadows, obscured by the lights that shown only on her and reflected on the waves of her gown until everything before her seemed to dance with each move she made. Lost in the sound of her voice and captivated by her look, he let her words surround him. Sarah sang of a one sided love, of an man in life who overlooked her, but in her mind he stood beside her, his stride in time with hers.

"I love him but everyday I'm learning, all my life I've only been pretending," Sarah's hands balled at her sides as she forced the powerful notes. "Without me, his world would go on turning, a world that's full of happiness that I have never known." Her voice rang through the auditorium, the tone clear the sound sharp. A quick breath and she returned to the throaty whisper she'd begun her performance with. "I love him, I love him, I love him, but only on my own."

The Goblin King wanted to stand, wanted to run to her and tell her that her love was returned. That she no longer had to pretend. He was here and wanted her as much as ever he had. "Brava," the producer cried as he took to his feet. "Those of you who've come to audition for Eponine are excused. I have found her."

Jareth shrunk back in his seat. He was happy for her success, but a bit embarrassed by the way he'd lost himself in the words of a play. "I'd get to sing with her if I bag this audition, man" Tony told him.

Buddy took the stage, announcing that there would be a ten minute break between solo and duet performances. Sarah ran to Stuart, furious she asked him, "There are duet auditions! Stuart!" Then it occurred to her that she had nothing to fear, hers was the only part guaranteed in the first round. "Oh Stuart," she cried again, the tears visible in her eyes, "I got it." She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him.

"I knew you could do it doll, I knew you could."

With a great deal of jealousy and anger, Jareth watched the exchange. Tony grabbed him by the elbow, "I'm going to congratulate her, maybe I could ask her to sing A Little Fall of Rain with me." The other men asked to participate in the duet auditions were intimated with her talent and cozied up to the Cosettes. "Come on," he tugged at the Goblin King. He attempted to resist, but ended up giving in when he remembered how different he looked thanks to Vic. They crossed the floor, heads high, one of them filled with confidence and one of them filled with dread.

"Ms. Williams," Tony extended his hand.

Stuart stepped in to receive the greeting, "And you are?"

"Tony Monroe. I was auditioning for the role of Marius."

"I've never seen you in the theater circles before," Sarah said plainly.

"Finally got me a decent agent," Tony reasoned, pulling Jareth closer. "Ms. Williams, this is Jeremy..." he stumbled, realizing that the Goblin King had never told him his last name.

"Underwood. Jeremy Underwood, charmed and delighted," he said taking Sarah's hand and brushing the back with his lips.

Thrown by his greeting, Sarah fumbled not only her words but her attempt to reach for Stuart. "Likewise," her trembling hands caught her agent by his tie and yanked him forward. "This is Stuart." Sarah's attention returned to Jareth, "Have we met somewhere before?"

"New York's a small city, we were bound to have met sooner or later," he responded without thinking about how strange it might sound.

Tony eyed his companion, "Yeah, so anyway, Ms. Williams, I thought we might sing A Little Fall of Rain for the duet, that is if you wouldn't mind singing with someone so, you know, not as good as you."

"My pleasure," Sarah told him as she and Jareth's eyes stayed locked.

Buddy took the microphone once more and called everyone back. He asked that Sarah and her partner take the stage first so that the new Eponine could leave as early as possible so that she rest up for tomorrow. Like a true gentlemen, Tony led her to the stage. Together they began to sing. Both faces expressing all the emotions of a song sung between a woman who loved a man, who didn't know he loved her back until just this moment. There was that funny feeling inside Jareth's chest again. It ached and tickled at the same time.

"You would live a hundred years, if I could show you how," Tony sang, cradling her to his shoulder, his hand stroking the few strands of Sarah's up do which she had allowed to frame her face.

In portrayed weakness, Sarah countered, "The rain can't hurt me now."

"I won't desert you now," Tony's voice promised.

Jareth closed his eyes. Christ they made it look easy. Standing in front of a roomful of strangers effortlessly confessing their deepest emotions as casually as they said hello. Silently he cursed his own deformities. He was fey, every fey had one. Little was flawed with Jareth's outward appearance, that is to say if anything. However, he lacked a great deal of emotion - that was imperfection and it stunted him worse than any magic, worse than even iron when it came to Sarah.

Having one's meditation disrupted was never pleasant, but as the producer stood to shower his accolades upon the duo Jareth nearly tumbled to the floor. "Such chemistry! We have found our Marius. This will be by far the best production I have ever done." He ran onto the stage throwing an arm around each of the newly discovered talents. "Off with you my dears," he kissed their foreheads, "rest your voices. Rehearsals will begin tomorrow!" He laughed childishly at himself.

Tony embraced Sarah, "I can't wait," he told her. "Thank you so much for singing with me. I know that's why I got the part. You're amazing," Tony said, "like a piano only much smaller and with lips." Sarah grinned at his awkwardness and waved to him as Stuart guided her away from what he thought was an overzealous young upstart who wanted to ride Sarah's coat tails to recognition, much like someone else he knew.

By the time Tony made it back to where Jareth had been, the chair was empty. "Didn't even give me a chance to say thanks." He walked home with a bit of a spring, eager to tell his uncle all that had happened this night.

Outside the theater Stuart was trying to convince Sarah to go out for a drink to celebrate her victory. "Thank you Stuart," she declined kissing his cheek, "I appreciate everything you've done, but I'd rather just head home. I'm a bit wiped out from all the excitement."

"Suit yourself then Sarah darling, I'll have your drink for you." Stuart gently draped her wrap over her shoulder and beamed at her. "I'm so proud of you," he said before he turned to walk away.

Sarah looked around her. No one was out and the chill in the air had no effect on the warmth her victory had brought to her heart. Her feet swept over the street below her. 'No cab tonight,' she thought. She felt so light she could have flown home. "On my own..." she sang the entire way back to the apartment.


	8. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER EIGHT - TWO WORLDS COLLIDE**

City streets scared Sarah normally, but tonight, city streets excited her. Tonight she felt like she was the woman she would portray on stage, young and fearless, willing to face all things terrifying. Her voice rang through the night air on the wind. Damn anyone who was listening, if they didn't hear her now, they'd hear her soon enough. Once she made it to Broadway the lights would spell out her name and she wouldn't even be able to get coffee in the corner store without having to sign at least a hundred autographs. She was so caught up in her thoughts, she didn't notice the figure in the shadows. She didn't feel the eyes of the Goblin King as they watched her, helpless to the swaying of her hips or the sweet song that escaped her lips.

Even when she was turning the key in the door to her apartment, Sarah kept singing. She burst open the door and threw her arms wide, her thin black silk wrap parachuted to the floor, "I got it!" She cried, "I got the part." No one was home to hear her. No one came running from the bedroom to say congratulations. No one peeked over the refrigerator door ready to ask more questions about the show. Her arms fell to her sides. From the door a cool draft blew in and it reminded her two things: her wrap had fallen, and she had forgotten to shut the door behind her. She turned around bending to snatch up the black silk, instead black leather met her eyes. Two black leather loafers to be exact, each peaking out from under a grey herringbone pant leg. Her eyes followed the pant leg to a matching jacket and let out a tiny gasp as she saw Jeremy standing in the doorway, her throw pinched in the fingers of his outstretched hand.

"Congratulations," he told her cocking an eyebrow and offering her the wrap.

Sarah grabbed it from his hand, doing a double take at his glove. "Jeremy? You followed me! Listen, if this is some ploy to steal me away from Stuart now that I've got the part, I should warn you, I have no intention of leaving him when he's done so much for me."

"I'm not here because I want to be your agent, Sarah."

She blinked when she heard him speak her name. Why was that so familiar? "Well if you think stalking a woman is some fabulous new pick up technique, you're wrong."

Jareth looked at her confused, "Pick up technique?"

"Listen buster all I have to do is let out a scream and the my neighbors will call the cops so fast, you won't make it to the elevators."

She was remarkably spirited the Goblin King noted as he shut the door behind him, "You're not going to scream and you know it." With arrogance to spare he leaned into her, practically nose to nose and forced her to spin as he took wide strides leading himself deeper into her living area. "You're too fascinated by my familiarity to get rid of me before you figure it out."

"I knew it. I recognized you back at the theater."

"And so you did." Jareth sat on one of the breakfast stools and leaned his elbows on the table behind him. "Now it seems you just cannot put a name to the face." He grinned baring his jagged teeth.

Sarah looked at him for a long minute in complete silence, those eyes, that grin, something in the way he carried himself, the way he seemed to drape across the furniture. She closed in on him. Jareth watched her. If it were possible, she seemed even more beautiful now, away from all the tinted lights and judging eyes that were back at the theater. What had once been a spoiled and selfish little girl had grown into a wildly enticing woman. She moved toward him with such amazing grace that he couldn't help jerking his brow with approval. Head held high, Sarah led each step with her hip making her body seemingly glide. Once or twice the Goblin King thought he should check to see if her feet were touching the ground but he wasn't foolish enough to waste these moments looking at her feet. Instead he wondered if beneath the pinned up ringlets on her head there was still that long flowing black waterfall he had dared to touch so many years ago as they danced.

"Don't play games with me," Sarah said as she stood in front of Jareth her hand raised as though she were preparing to slap the dopey grin off his face if he didn't remove it himself.

A gloved hand wrapped around her wrist. "Until tonight I feared someone may have managed to quelch your magic, love, but it thrills me to find no one has put your fire out." Never breaking their stare, he drew her hand close to his mouth and kissed her palm.

Something inside her began to swim. Her heart was racing and she'd forgotten how to breath. Why wasn't she pulling away from this freak? Or running to lock herself in the bedroom until the police came? "What do you mean magic?" Sarah managed to stutter eventually.

"You," Jareth pulled her by the wrist until she was between his knees. "Tonight," he purred reaching up with his free hand to undo the pins from her hair. "You were pure mortal magic," the Goblin King stopped what he was saying to take her in as the curls began framing her porcelain face. Green eyes seemed to see through him. Releasing her wrist, Jareth put both hands around her waist, one gloved palm to either side of her unveiled spine. Weak in the knees from the sensation of him touching her, Sarah grabbed at his neck with the hand Jareth had just set free. Shorter than it had been, the hair at the back of his head was still long enough to poke out from between Sarah's finger tips as she worked her hand in his golden locks. The mighty Goblin King had not intended for this to happen. He wanted to find his mortal, take back his magic, perhaps torment her a bit. After all, she'd have no idea that the Triumvirate had forbid him his powers. Instead he found himself in awe of this woman. Curious for the feel of her. Hungry for the taste of her. Jareth brushed Sarah's hair away from her shoulder and placed a series of tender kisses along her artery. A heavy sigh escaped her throat before she bit down on her lower lip to keep any more from breaking loose.

'What the hell are you doing?' she caught herself wondering. 'You barely know this guy.' While that were true, it had been a long time since her body felt like it did right now. She caught herself looking down to make certain that her legs actually existed beneath her knees. 'Still standing,' she thought. Jagged teeth nipped at her tender flesh and she fell into him. Sarah felt his lips smile against her neck. Jareth pulled back his head to meet her eyes, but they were closed. There was something terribly innocent about her face. Years of anger melted away as with incredible delicacy he lay his lips upon each eyelid, then her nose. She opened her eyes and her lips parted intent on telling him to stop. The Goblin King gave her little chance to say anything as his warm lips covered hers. At first Sarah was too stunned to do anything. She stood there, now relying on him for practically all the support that kept her from crashing to the floor. His mouth was sweet and his lips moved over hers like a light breeze without being prodding or demanding as, 'Damn it, that guy, the one she lived with,' Sarah caught herself asking, 'what was his name?'

Even if she felt distracted, it hadn't deterred Jareth in the least. He continued kissing her, his tongue sliding over her lip every now and again. Suddenly the name that eluded her didn't matter. The name of the man who was making her body behave this way didn't matter. This kiss became everything. It forced her to react, kissing him back, opening her mouth begging him to deepen their connection. She waited patiently for what seemed like minutes. Through being teased, Sarah brought her palms to his jaw line and pulled him to her taking the initiative to open his stubborn lips with her own tongue. Jareth rose his eyebrows and conceded. He didn't mind losing to his mortal when this was the battle they waged. His hands balled into fists at the small of her back, frustrated by the fact there was no fabric there for them to grasp.

Jareth was suddenly very grateful that Tony had taken him to get this suit. The loose fitting cotton blend hid what his tights would not have. Sarah was aware too that they were no longer two strangers sharing one innocent kiss. The chemistry between them was escalating to an unstoppable passion she would regret in the morning. As if he sensed her hesitation to continue, Jareth worked his way back to her neck. His tongue swirled over the sensitive spots at her collarbone as his nose filled with the vanilla scent from her perfume. "Sarah," he moaned into her neck while his hands stroked her back.

"Jareth," she sighed back. In that moment it was if all timed had stopped. The Goblin King's lips stilled their fevered kisses. Sarah could feel her legs again, in fact, they'd turned to stone. For him, it was as if he had heard her call his name for the first time and he was amazed at the sound of it as it fell from her perfect mouth. For Sarah, it was the similarity to a dream she'd had not that long ago. Pushing him back by the shoulders, she stared into his mismatched eyes. Trembling fingers reached for his lips, the soft tissue tasting her as she pulled them over his mouth, "You're real." Her hand settled over his chest where his heart was beating wildly. "What happened to you?"

"What do you mean what happened to me?" Jareth asked a little hurt.

"Your clothes," she said. "Your hair. You've cut your beautiful hair." Her fingers danced through the thick waves on the top of his head. It had seamed so straight to her before now. But without all that length to drag it down, his mop was tasseled with curls. Cut close on the sides and combed back it seemed to thin his face making his cheek bones seem even higher and his face more gaunt.

"You haven't changed a bit," he kissed her again this time quickly, as if he were afraid, now that she knew him, she'd run away if he pushed too hard, "except to grow more beautiful." The back of his gloved hand caressed her cheek and she leaned into his touch. For fifteen years Sarah fought back the feelings she had for this man. Hatred. Curiosity. Whatever you might call what she was experiencing right now. A dozen or more times she'd tried to call him. Tried to summon him back to her. Tears stained the grey fabric that covered his hands.

"Why didn't you come when I called to you?" she asked him, trying hard not to sob.

"I couldn't," he answered honestly hoping she wouldn't pursue this any further.

Sarah narrowed her eyes, "I called you so many times. I convinced myself I imagined you. Damn you!" she shouted trying to twist and turn from his arms. Jareth only held her tighter. She managed to wiggle around so that she no longer faced him. Her movement forced him to stand and pulling her to him, matching the curve of his body to hers, "Sarah," he whispered in her ear, "there was never a time you called that I didn't pray I could have come. Everytime you asked, my soul wanted to respond. The pain of it as it tried to tear itself from my body was indescribable." Her body went limp in his arms and he compensated for her loss in stability by further tightening his hold. The Goblin King nuzzled her with his head. Soft locks brushed against her cheek and neck. Jareth's lips replaced his hair. "You told me I had no power over you, Sarah. Which meant that until you admitted once more that I did, my magic was powerless when it came to you."

'Jesus,' she thought, 'if seeing me like this isn't a blatant confession that you do have some sort of power over me, then what is?' Jareth filled the silence with the sound of his lips against her flesh. He traced her spine with his tongue, slowly down to her tail bone, where her dress stopped him from going any further. With an even more torturous deliberateness he wound his way back to her neck, letting her silky black curls engulf his face as he searched for those spots he'd only too easily found moments earlier. Sarah was furious. Furious that he seemed to blame her for not being there when she wanted him, but it seemed not to matter when she wanted him so much now. "Guess I was a bit spontaneous in my youth," she told him as she twisted in his grip to face him once again. Her eyes pleaded with him to alter time the way he had once. She wanted to go back to before life had become so complicated.

Smoothing back the hair that had made it's way into her eyes, Jareth spoke to her in that same melodic calm he always had. Sarah's eyes went wide as a new rendition of an old soliloquy filed her ears. "Through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered, I have fought my way here," he emphasized, "to this apartment within the New York City, to take back the heart you have stolen. For my will is as strong as yours and my love is as great. You hold all the power over me." His head threw back a bit as he stressed all and he smiled at his own cleverness. Sarah couldn't help thinking what a handsome smile he had. Those pointed teeth making him seem seductively devilish.

Maybe it was time that had changed her or the poetry of the words he had spoken. Perhaps it was the way his mouth seemed perpetually pursed as though he were constantly waiting to kiss or be kissed by someone that made Sarah lean into him once more, claiming his lips for her pleasure. Her trembling hands worked at the knotted silk around his throat until the fabric came free. It was easier for Jareth to breathe once Sarah managed to undo the top button of the collar. With a replenished supply of oxygen at his demand, his hands covered her exposed rib cage and brought her more tightly to him, kissing her with a renewed vigor. More of his buttons slipped out of the holes in his shirt. Sarah's fingers nimbly removed his jacket and draped it over one of the stools. Through the thin fabric of his shirt, he felt defined without being bulky. On an agenda all their own, Sarah's hands slid inside his shirt and smoothed over his pale skin. The Goblin King's heightened fey sensitivities were bringing him closer to the point of no return at the touch of her satiny fingertips slipping over his skin. Even the cool silver amulet around his neck had grown warm lying against his chest.

Jareth fought the urge to scoop up his mortal and carry her off to somewhere he could lie her down and love her properly. He undid the clasp at the back of her neck and let his mouth trail down her throat. When Sarah gasped and pulled away, he realized that he must have been using his teeth as well. "Sorry, love," he told her as he blew over the skin he'd just bruised. He might as well have blown fire across her skin, making her sweat in the most unusual places.

Thoughts of her mortal world seemed to fade. Eponine no longer mattered. Christian and whatever it was they were supposed to discuss tonight were irrelevant. Sarah was alive in the here and now and her one true love had crossed worldly boundaries to pledge his love for her. "I shouldn't have said those things to you," she whispered in his ear.

"What's said is said. You were trying to get Toby back," he reassured her.

'Lot of good that's done me,' she recalled. They hadn't spoken since Sarah had left for Julliard. Sarah's hands folded over the collar of Jareth's half undone shirt. Timidly she guided him to the couch where his image had plagued a week's worth of her restless nights. "I was too young to love you then," Sarah told him as they sat simultaneously.

"And now?" he couldn't help asking. He wanted this, wanted her. Suddenly his magic wasn't the only thing on his mind. The words of the Triumvirate didn't ring in his ears. Only Sarah's sweet voice speaking his name. The Goblin King replayed it again and again as he waited for her answer to his provocative inquiry.

Green eyes met with his mismatched blues, "I am no longer young." She kissed him once more, innocently at first. Sarah wasn't used to being the aggressor, but something about him empowered her. Jareth winced knowing that the real differences in their ages was far greater than she realized. Why in the Underground, Sarah would still be considered a baby. Well, a minor at least. Jareth pushed all that aside to focus on returning her kiss. He carefully guided her back to the cushions beneath her. In truth, she put up little resistance to his brazen advance. Encouraged by his aggression, she strengthened the pressure of her lips and tongue, her teeth chewing gently at his lower lip. Eagerly she tore at his shirt, untucking it from his waist band and rushing her hands inside. Jareth repositioned his amulet so that it set on his back. It was heavy and he didn't want it swinging around and hurting the beautiful woman below him. Beneath the weight of him, it was easy to feel his readiness to have her. For the first time in as long as Sarah could remember she wanted a man, but only if that man was Jareth, King of the Goblins.

For a moment, he stopped their frenzied attack on one another's mouths and stared into her eyes. It crossed his mind for a moment that she could have been toying with him. She had been cruel once. Inside her enlarged blackened pupils he saw only confusion. Confusion for how he could break away from their embrace, when to Sarah, at that moment her very survival was dependent on not losing contact with him. He couldn't ask her now, the time was all wrong. There were more important things to be said. "I have always loved you," he told her as she watched his mouth form the words, still eager for it to find so many other places on her body. Sarah had no clue how or if to respond. Did he expect to hear her say she loved him too? She obviously wanted him. Wasn't that enough for right now? While she worried what to say, the Goblin King skillfully undid the zipper at the base of her back. His tender touch peeled the dress over her shoulders and down to her waist exposing her bare breasts. Jareth moved to cover one sensitive nipple with his mouth as he massaged the other breast with his long fingers. The fabric of his glove and soft pressure from his teeth thrilled Sarah and she rose her hips toward him, pressing into his erection.

The turning of the doorknob stung them like a cold rain. Jareth pulled back from his radiant mortal, a healthy blush obvious on his pale cheeks. Sarah's fingers worked to rejoin the straps of her dress almost as eagerly as they had undone the Goblin King's stunning attire. Before either of them could fully complete their objective, Christian shouted, "What the hell are you doing?" He was furious with Sarah, and given he walked in on her half undressed, covered by a strange man, he felt he had the right to be. "Is he your producer? Audition not quite done?" he raged.

"No, no," Sarah repeated. She couldn't bring herself to meet his accusing eyes. Her cheeks were still flushed with passion and although she was painfully aware of the coolness that swept over her where Jareth's body had been, she was still warm with the thought of what he had been doing to her. The Goblin King reworked the buttons of his shirt. Sarah, satisfied that she had rejoined enough of the straps to keep her bosoms from being exposed, stood before Christian, head cast down, matted strands blocking her eyes from his.

Brutally he shoved her head back, his thumb and forefinger squeezing her chin. "Save your lies you slut, and to think, I was going to take you back."

Tears coursed over her cheeks smearing what remained of her make up. Jareth grew infuriated with what Christian was doing, what Christian always did. "See here then," the Goblin King called him, "seems to me you ought wonder more about what you didn't do that has caused her to go and do what she's done." He stepped between them breaking Christian's hold of her. Fastening the last of the cuff buttons, he glared down at the mortal man with contempt and hatred. Sarah's hands clutched his waist as she murmured pleas for him to stop. Even in a moment such as this one her touch made him warm. What an awful moment to be without his magic. "I've wanted to meet you for quite sometime Christian."

"How does he know my name Sarah?"

"This is your suitor?" Jareth asked Sarah in mock ignorance.

"What does he mean suitor?"

"You will address me and me only. Consider her invisible the way you always have." Jareth spat at him.

A mortal fist met the outside of Jareth's left temple causing him to catch his head in his hands. Blood poured from his broken skin and ran toward his jaw. Sarah gasped as he fell free of her hold. The Goblin King was on his knees and the foolish girl covered him with her own body. Christian grabbed the open back of her dress and tossed her aside, ripping the fabric and exposing the rest of her back side. The doubled over fey growled like a wounded animal backed into a corner. The promises he made the Triumvirate were long since forgotten as he rose to his feet and buried a fist deep into the mortal's rib cage as he did so. "Pity is Christian," he started to say, but paused to block an incoming blow from his opponent, "I didn't come prepared for a formal fight." A second fist came thundering into Christian's face. "I'm more of a swordsman myself." By the third hit, Jareth was holding the mortal by the shoulder keeping him from sliding to the floor done in by the repeated blows. "Not that I mind a good hand to hand combat now or then, but I feel like I've let you down not giving you my best performance." A final strike and the Goblin King let him slide to the floor in a heap.

Sarah was balled in the corner sobbing. How was it even possible to ride such a roller coaster of emotions so quickly. Christian had ruined all the magic of this perfect night, but then she'd let Jareth control her and after she swore that would never happen again. Worse yet, she'd let Christian lay his hands on her again, how many times had she forgiven him for that before. The fey's glove reached to palm her streaked face. "Sarah," he whispered. "Are you alright?"

"Do I look alright?" she fired back at him. "Why, Jareth, why did you come here after all these years? The truth ... none of your bullshit about how much you loved me!"

He winced. It was a tougher blow than the one he'd taken from her companion only minutes earlier, "I do love you Sarah. I have always loved you. That ... that was not a lie."

"You've never done anything for no reason. What was your reason for loving me?"

Damned if he could answer that. It was a question he had asked himself a million times, but answers never came. "I had no choice in loving you. It is the only thing my heart has ever been sure of."

Part of her wanted to crawl into his arms, the way he stooped before her, seemingly sincere, fresh blood still running from the gash on his head. The rest of her didn't buy his poetic words any longer. Why shouldn't every man be like Christian using well written words to get them what they really wanted. They'd reeked havoc on her life for their own satisfaction, "What have you come to take from me this time?"

Wishing she'd have just slapped him, Jareth gave in. It was all he could stand to see the passion in her eyes replaced with disgust. "I came to ask you to take back your words Sarah, to permit me power over you again so that my magic would be restored to whole. I've come to take back what I gave you fifteen years ago when I first fell in love with you."

"Were you going to wait until after we did it?" she said between clenched teeth. "You think you can just come in here once I'd grown to love you and seduce me into giving it all back. The only thing that made me feel alive and you've come to steal it away with a kiss and whatever else you could get!" He said nothing as his head wagged back and forth at her gross misunderstanding. "Get out Jareth."

"Sarah, please."

"Leave."

"Let me explain."

She stood before him defiantly, "I do not wish to hear your explanations Goblin King. I wish..."

"Careful what you say Sarah," he hissed lifting himself to meet her steely eyes.

"I wish you'd go away, back to the Underground,"

"Sarah don't, you don't understand what your capable of."

"And never visit me again."

Jareth's eyes were dark and sad, set on his one true love, as the fabric of time wrinkled and swallowed him whole.

Sarah sunk to her knees again. What had she just done? Where had he gone? Could it be that even after all these years she had to mature she was still that spontaneous, petulant child who spoke first and thought afterwards. Right now it seemed that way. She'd wished him away as easily as she'd offered up her little brother in a time when they had failed to compliment one another. The chill she felt without his arms around her earlier paled in comparison to the cold that ravaged her now.

Hours later, on the other side of the apartment, Christian was coming to. Moaning and grunting preceded his actually getting up to make his way to the bathroom. He snorted as he walked by Sarah, still curled up on the floor crying. Mirrors were truthful if not kind and that fellow from the prior evening had done a number on him undoubtedly. Wincing and sucking air through his teeth, Christian set about to cleaning his wounds. Every breath made his chest ache more. "Probably broke my rib," he said pressing the tender area with his fingers. "You oughtta get cleaned up too." Christian said to Sarah when he reappeared beside her in the living room. He tossed the blood covered hand towel at her and kept walking.

Sarah threw the disgusting thing aside. Her shoulders were sore from the way he'd grabbed her so roughly. Once on her feet, she stepped into the bedroom and slammed the door behind her. Before the dressing table she watched as her beautiful dress hit the floor. 'How did all this happen?' she thought as she looked at the woman in the mirror. With the help of a cotton ball, Sarah wiped away the streaks of mascara and eyeliner. Laughing at herself, she couldn't help but draw the connection between her make up and Jareth's usual theatrical flair. What had happened to him last night? When she saw Jeremy he intrigued her, true. Once she kissed Jareth, it was the long blonde hair her hands reached out for. The first time her eyes opened she expected the flamboyant earth tones that made his mismatched eyes all the more captivating. She had to admit those fancy buttons on that dress shirt had frustrated the hell out of her, when it should have been a plunging neckline of a loose shirt giving her the access she had pawed for. "Argh," she grunted throwing the cotton ball into the wastebasket.

Redressed in jeans and a sweatshirt, she brushed her hair until it was tangle free and shone. The ends of a few ringlets brushed her face and in her memory it was as if Jareth's hands were on her once more. More hurriedly she hiked her mane into a ponytail. Sarah rejoined Christian in the living room. He noticed her blush, it lit her face the same way he had found her last night. "Who was he?" Christian asked with a little more calm than she was used to him exhibiting.

How would you describe Jareth to someone? How did you explain what kind of relationship the two of you had? 'Well,' the truth rummaged around in Sarah's mind, 'it's kinda like this. He came and stole my baby brother. I went to his Labyrinth to get my brother back and ended up with this huge adolescent crush on the Goblin King. Too young to know what to do about repressed sexual tension, I waited fifteen years for him to find me again, then jumped him in the living room like a horny girl on prom night.' Probably not the best explanation she could give. Besides, it wasn't the whole truth. Jareth had been uncharacteristically tender with her. His touch was light and passionate. He could have just as easily forced himself on her the instant he'd gotten into the apartment, and none of these thoughts were making that blush fade. "It's difficult," she told him.

"Difficult Sarah? What were you drunk or something? How can it be difficult to tell me who this guy was?"

"I've known him since I was a kid Christian. When I saw him again it just, I don't know, it stirred up some old emotions."

"When you were a kid? How old a kid? Christ he looks like he's forty something! What did he baby-sit you?" He was certainly acting jealous for someone who typically seemed unconcerned with whether or not anyone else noticed Sarah.

"I was fifteen," she admitted.

"So he was like thirty! That's pretty fucking sick if you ask me."

"I don't know how old he was," she cried, finally finding her resolve again. If only they knew just how old Jareth really was. "And no one did ask you!"

Christian sat next to her on the couch, not wanting another confrontation. His arm slid around her shoulder and he kissed her hair. "It's okay Sarah. I've decided to forgive you."

His kisses no longer thrilled her and they hadn't in awhile if she were honest. Next to Jareth's, Christian's lips felt like stone. Her mouth hung open. Her eyes blazed wide. "You forgive me?" Sarah bent back the fingers of her right hand as she pressed them off her chest. "You forgive me," she chuckled. "Day in, day out you come and go as you chose. You show up late for meals I spend all day preparing. You share about as much of yourself with me as you do with the Main Street grocer and you're forgiving me!" She left the couch and stormed into the kitchen. At the counter she poured a glass of juice. A gulp rejuvenate her dried throat. The glass met with the breakfast table and Sarah was ready to continue her outburst. Her mouth opened, but no words came forth. Instead her hands reached out for the jacket Jareth had left behind. In her head she remembered sliding it from his shoulders and placing it aside. Beneath her nose, the garment stilled smelled like him. Not like his cologne. Not like shampoo or soap. A raw ethereal scent that was him and him alone. Sarah folded the jacket over her arm and smoothed it down. A lump in the pocket caught he attention. Her small hand withdrew one of his crystals from the pocket.

Another flashback came to mind, one from her far past. 'It's a crystal, nothing more, but if you turn it this way and look into it, it'll show you your dreams.'

She rolled the orb in her palm and peered into it. Sarah was beguiled by the images that presented themselves to her. The Jeremy version of Jareth she had faced the night before draped himself in his throne and melted into the Jareth she knew from long ago. He reached to his side, smiling, grasping something just outside of what the crystal was showing her. He pulled a woman in a full white gown to him. She landed in his lap with a shy giggle. His black leather glove lifted her chin so that he could bring his lips to hers in a passionate exchange. When their kiss was broken Sarah gasped. It was her she saw in the elaborate dress in the lap of the Goblin King. She held the crystal tightly, "On second thought Christian, I do need to be forgiven."

He sauntered over to her full of himself thinking she had finally seen the light. Sarah met his pompous eyes with her own determined ones, "I sent away the wrong man last night." Now it was Christian's mouth that fell open. With nothing but the crystal she stormed out, pausing briefly at the door to remind him he was supposed to be gone by the end of tomorrow. She held her head higher as she walked to rehearsals that day.

Before the curious eye of the Triumvirate, Jareth lay sprawled face down, "Ah," he moaned, "in all these many years we haven't found a way to improve on the landings?" He grabbed at the cut on his head which threatened to break back opened any second.

It was the Gavel who spoke to him first, "So Goblin King, you have failed."

"So I have," Jareth seemed to accept it as he forced himself up on one knee.

"New suit, new hair, new shoes?" the Sage questioned eager to get his digs in. "Aren't we precious?"

Jareth stayed perfectly still on his knee and awaited his judgment.

"The mortal has not only refused to return your magic, but if I'm not mistaken, you professed your love for her again, leaving her with an even a bigger part of yourself."

It was true. Jareth could feel it happening when they kissed. His fey self was mixing with Sarah yet again. Fifteen years ago, he'd loved her with just his eyes and she grew powerful enough for glamours and to call upon her friends. This day he had loved her with his mouth and whether she knew it or not, she was powerful enough to cast now. She'd cast him back to the Underground that was for damn sure. "I accept my fate," he said wanting to crawl back to his castle where he could sulk in peace. Why couldn't she have wished the whole thing never happened? Then he'd be back where he started, begging the Triumvirate for a chance to face her. More importantly, he wouldn't still have the taste of her on his lips. His hands wouldn't remember the soft warm feel of her. Better still she could have wished they'd never met and he could start over again, before he even knew her name.

"I don't think you've even begun to realize your fate king," the Gavel spat down at him through a wicked sneer.

Jareth met the eyes of the Cleric revealing a pleading for some mercy. "Pity sake's Gavel," the holy fey began, "the king is hurt. He needs to seek the comfort of a healer. Pass your ruling and send him on his way."

"As you wish brother," the Gavel told him. "Jareth, King of the Goblins, insomuch as we have done as you asked and you have failed to complete the task you were assigned, we hereby sentence your magic defunct upon mortals and limit your travels to the Aboveground to those visits which directly relate to the collection of children." His mallet thundered off the arm of his throne. Jareth winced a bit.

"Let us send you home," the Cleric offered.

Jareth rose, "Not necessary, I can manage for myself." The king materialized one of his crystals and cast himself to his bed chambers.

The Cleric remained behind as the Gavel and the Sage left the great hall whispering between themselves at Jareth's expense. He looked into a gazing ball that served as a decorative piece in the corner by the entry way. His eyes clouded with what he saw and his hands moved to bless himself, "I fear we have lost him this time," he spoke aloud to no one in particular. "The only one who can save Jareth now," he paused, "is Jareth."

Rubber soles made no sound as they traversed the aisle of the theater to join the rest of the cast already in attendance. "Sorry I'm late," she offered to those who looked judgmentally at her.

The producer rose wrapping an arm around her, "Nonsense, there is no starting until you are here my dear, and so how could you have been late." He thrust a script into her hands and Sarah took a seat, next to Tony in the audience.

"I wish I could pick this all up just by flipping through it," she told him, flicking the pages with her thumb.

"You'll do fine Ms. Williams," he tried to reassure her. She looked away not much up for accepting anyone's flattery

"Tony?" Sarah asked him after they'd spent a few moments looking over the scripts. He turned his head and raised an eyebrow, indicating that she had his attention. "Jeremy, your new agent, how did the two of you get hooked up together?"

"It was the funniest thing," he told her, happy to finally share the story with someone. What he'd told his uncle had been more a collection of half truths to keep him from asking too many questions. "He stumbled in to a bad spot just outside town. A poor neighborhood. Most of us can't afford a radio, so we make our own music. For some reason, the stage actors love to stop by and poke fun or make comments. A lot of the guys are pretty good, if you ask me, and they get real worked up with the theater folks mostly because they never give us a shot to come into the city and really make something of our talent."

"Never give us?" Sarah noticed the way he had said us and not them immediately.

"Yeah," he admitted uneasily. "Look if you don't rat me out then I'll do anything for you, wash your car or paint your house. I'm a pretty good handyman and I don't mind physical labor."

"Your talented Tony, more so than I've seen in a long time. You're secret is safe with me." Her hand reached out to pat his.

He smiled. Coming from her, there was no greater compliment. "Thanks Ms. Williams."

"Call me Sarah," she told him. "I'm not old enough for you to be calling me Ms. Williams."

"Yes ma'am, I mean Sarah. Anyway, here came Jeremy in this weird get up, from God only knows what show. This floppy white shirt with big sleeves and tights. Some crazy long coat all covered in beadwork and high heeled boots. He had this crazy mop all teased out and screwed down. I don't know what he was thinking walking through my neighborhood that way, but some of the guys, well they didn't like him being around." Tony closed his script so he could tell Sarah what happened next. "I made him a deal. I would get my uncle to hook him up with some respectable threads, if he got me into this audition. My uncle Vic, set him up good with that snazzy suit and a decent hair cut. Must have taken a good hour to get the make up off him."

Was she really hearing all this? They transformed her Goblin King. Tony and his uncle had taken the man she loved and made him trendy, another cliché, to walk unnoticed in the city streets. It made her sad thinking about him as ordinary when he was so much more. "We made up this nutty story about another PA who had messed up the auditions and how Buddy would look like a hero if he straightened things out. Almost shit myself when it worked. Oh," he interrupted himself, "excuse me. Anyway, I was surprised that's for sure. By the time they'd given me the part hands down, he was gone." He fumbled with the corners of the book in his lap, "Never even got to say thanks."

"Jareth is a hard one to appreciate sometimes," Sarah confided in him.

Tony's eyes grew wide with suspicion, "I never told you his name was Jareth. We called him Jeremy to keep anyone from asking questions. I ain't told no one his real name, no one."

"Let's just say I know him from a long time ago and seeing him yesterday was good, it was really good." Sarah was lost in her own reverie.

"It's those eyes," Tony told her. "Doesn't matter how much you change a person's clothes or hair, when they have eyes like that it's almost impossible to hide who they are. Don't think I've ever seen such a thing."

"No, not many people have." She reopened her script, "Guess we better start memorizing these things. I wish you a lot of success Tony Monroe. I wish you all the best things about our business and a fine woman at your side to share it all."

He looked at her strangely, but more because no one had ever wished him things before. The producer called them to the stage. Sarah stood without her script ready to perform. "Don't you want this," Buddy asked holding up her script.

"No thanks," she told him, "I'm through with that."

Buddy huffed, everybody who came into the theater thought they were something special. Sarah disappointed him more than most did, after all she had talent. Apparently she knew it. Together the main cast ran through the songs, everyone relying heavily on the books in their hands. Sarah strutted about the stage as if she'd wrote the blocking on her own. Every song was in pitch and her timing impeccable.

During a break Tony asked her how long she'd had the script. "Got mine when you got yours," she told him. Don't know why I managed to take to it so quickly." Suddenly it frightened her. She was remembering the wish she made when she and Tony were sitting in the audience seats. She decided to ask the producer if she could wrap early. He agreed, impressed by how much work she managed to put into just a few hours. She became an example for all the others.

Sarah's stomach was filled with butterflies as she walked home. The last couple of days were too much of a coincidence to make her comfortable. Absentmindedly, she paused on a street corner to watch some stomp musicians performing. 'Wish I could dance like that,' she thought. Without warning, one of the dancers picked her from the crowd and they were dancing in time to the rhythms and making music with every step. After a minute or so, Sarah was guided back to her spot in the crowd. She was in total disbelief. Sure Sarah had taken a few dance classes, but none as complicated as all that. A few other members of the crowd were chosen to participate, none of whom had the success Sarah had. She took off like a shot back down the street. Sarah's loafer's were escaping her feet as she slowed to a trot. How she wished she'd just worn sneakers. Within a second of thinking it, her feet were wrapped in the supportive leather of her sneakers. The trot became a full out run. Something odd was going on and she wondered how much of it was because of Jareth's visit. For the first time in over a week she couldn't wait to get home.

"Arulan, fetch me a healer," he called to the elf. Jareth caught sight of himself in his mirror. "Even a healer couldn't undo this." Gloved fingers combed through what little hair remained. With a snap, the button up shirt and herringbone pants were traded for the king's royal attire and his mane seemed to replenish itself on command. "I still have all the magic I need," he huffed.

When his house elf entered the room, a healer was at her side. Quickly he went to setting up a poultice that would repair the King's torn flesh. "Things did not go as you expected?" Arulan asked him when they were free of the healer's company.

Jareth hissed at her as if they had never had their discussion prior to his leaving, "No Arulan, in fact they went better than I expected."

"But news of the Triumvirate's ruling made it to the castle less than an hour ago."

"I must remember that," he said prowling around her like she were some kind of prey his owl form was hunting. "I don't leave you all with enough to keep you busy throughout the day. I'll have to increase the work load."

The healer returned, smearing a green and orange paste over his wound. It burnt like hell and Jareth found it exhilarating. His trip to the Aboveground had reeducated him to the pleasures of pain. Feeling it and inflicting it. Before the healer could even wipe the paste away, the king was on his feet storming towards the throne room, tossing the occasional stray goblin for fun. A particularly fuzzy one served to remove the paste from his forehead. "Glad to be back," he announced.

"Yer majesty. Let me tell you what I caught these two scoundrels up to."

"Don't care," the returning king said flatly.

"But yer majesty, I'm trying to tell you they have..." Hoggle never finished telling Jareth anything.

"And I'm telling you Hedgewart, I'm relieving you of your responsibilities this instant," Jareth hissed at the dwarf.

Hoggle released the goblins he held in either hand. "Fine! You can have'em!" He threw his hands up in the air. Before he could even step away the two beasts were at one another.

Jareth just let them go at it. He took to his throne conforming to its curves. "Ah," he breathed, "just the way I left it." The Goblin King reached down beside his throne for his riding crop. With some purpose he began to crack it against his thigh. To the goblins who crowded the room with him, it was an ordinary day and he was behaving like himself. But in Jareth's mind, he was punishing himself for what he'd allowed the mortal to do to him. He had tried to harden himself toward her before, but now he had new reasons to try. Jareth had shown her all the tenderness he had inside and she denied him, again. When he conquered the tunnel of riddles and learned to depend and appreciate. These were mistakes he would no longer make. A smirk bent his lips and he whispered softly to himself, "Fool me once, shame on you Sarah. Fool me twice, shame on me. My days of foolishness and shame are over. I am free of you forever. Free of love forever."


	9. Chapter 9

**CHAPTER NINE - REWORKING MAGIC**

Those last three blocks seemed to not even have been there once Sarah wished she were home already. Upstairs, she was pleased to see that Christian wasn't at the apartment. Probably gone drinking with his brother again. A flick of the wrist bolted her front door and she drew the chain, just in case Christian did return. Once Sarah felt secure, she drew the crystal from her pocket. It was a marvelous thing. Reflecting light and color like a prism, able to conform to its container so that even in her pocket it appeared as little more than a bump. Placing it in the center of what should have been a dining room, she moved to the bedroom doorway. Sarah felt foolish concentrating on the crystal sphere and just as she was about to make a wash of it, the thing crept toward her. It was a fascinating display as it rolled across the floor to her feet and then with a hop leapt into her open palm. The crystal began to spin. Sarah tried passing it over the backs of her hands and with little effort it was gliding along the contour of her arms. "Unbelievable," she muttered as she caught the crystal, putting an end to its dance. 'To think I was so impressed with the way the Goblin King moved these things around,' she thought.

Still not convinced that she possessed any of the magic that Jareth and Hoggle insisted she did, Sarah gently set the crystal down on the coffee table. It must have been the source of the magic she'd suddenly found. The damned thing had been in her pocket all day while those strange occurrences were going on. She pulled down a copy of Webster's Dictionary from a bookshelf. Sarah set it on the arm of an overstuffed high back chair she kept nearby. It was a great chair for curling up to read, plus it got light all day from either the sun or a streetlight positioned right outside the window. She concentrated on the book the same way she had with the crystal. Not a budge. Didn't matter that she focused until her head hurt, not one inch.

"Huh?" Sarah said scratching her head. "Maybe I should check the book?" Fast feet took her into the bedroom, where eager fingers rummaged through her drawer. On her way back to the living room, she snatched Christian's watch off the dresser. It could have been that she just needed to start with something smaller. "Typical Christian," she muttered holding the band to the book with her thumb and switching off the light with her empty hand, "spend a fortune on something you want for one moment and then leave the thing lying around as if it serves no purpose to you any longer." By the time she reached the couch, Sarah was nervous inside and out. She felt like she was doing something wrong, hiding something and Christian was suddenly all that was on her mind. Quickly she sat down, emptying her hand so that it could catch her dizzy head. There was nothing she'd done that should have put her on edge this way. It's not like she stole Jareth's magic. He'd given it to her. And Christian, well, it wasn't that she lied to him. It was just that she told him only what he wanted to know and he wanted to know so little.

Whatever it was overcoming her seemed to have passed. Sarah moved to get the book, her hand wrapped around the gold watch in an attempted to lift it out of her way. No sooner had her fingers encircled the timepiece, her head began searing with pain as though it were about to split in two. With no further warning, images began to pass through her head like a slide show presentation. First she saw Christian walking into a jewelry store. He tried on a couple of watches that were outside the cases and available to the customers. When someone was finally free to assist him, he leaned on one of the counters and pointed down. Delicate hands lifted a watch out of the case and set it on the flat glass surface. There was no jewelry on the hands, which Sarah couldn't help but find odd, working in a shop that sold so much of it. Sarah's stomach started to fill with butterflies. The same feeling she'd gotten the night before when Jareth had pulled her to him and began letting down her hair. In her mind's eye, she saw those delicate fingers working the latch that anchored the band around Christian's wrist. Those were woman's hands. She knew it, not by the look of them, for on the face they were indistinguishable, not particularly large or hairy, delicate, but not feminine, per say. It was the touch, the touch that made her tingle while she was in Christian's point of view. The touch and the sudden overwhelming fragrance of roses in the air.

Disgusted by the feelings she was having over a woman, Sarah threw the watch down. "What the hell was that all about?" her voice shook as she spoke to the floor. Knees still knocking, she forced herself to the kitchen for a glass of water. She sat on the stool where Jareth had sat. Pulling an ice cube out of her glass, her fingers slid it over the artery in her neck trying desperately to quench the heat her imagination was building there. Kisses had come and gone in her 30 years, not all of them had been passionate, but there were some that were very much so. Dare she say, there were some that had put that kiss between Jareth and her to shame, except for that wonderful sensation he left along her back when he had snaked over her spine with his tongue. That kind of magic was his alone. Or the strange feeling of those jagged teeth on her, but was it fair to give him credit for an aptitude that he'd acquired through no merit of his own? The glass of water in Sarah's hand was empty as her lips searched for more of the cool liquid to wash away her recollections. "Best I just concentrate on this magic," she supposed.

Thumbing through the novel, lots of things stood out to her. Statements that started with I wish. Her friends reappearing when she needed them. The crystal that showed Sarah her dreams. Even the promises Jareth tried to make her about love and desires. It all added up to an assemblage of quotations that taught her nothing. 'If only those things came with an instruction sheet,' Sarah imagined looking at the crystal. "I must be overlooking something," she proclaimed as she recited her list aloud hoping that the more senses she could involve the better chance she'd have of finding a clue.

"Hoggle," she whined, "I need you."

"What is it?" the dwarf asked sounding particularly annoyed.

"I know Jareth's back Hoggle."

"So."

"Hoggle please." Sarah stared down at him, pleading with her eyes. "I've done something terrible."

If she was working at catching his attention, she had it. With new curiosity he studied her eyes. Genuine upset settled deep inside the emerald rings staring back at him. A sigh filled the room, "Whatever you've done, it can't be as bad as all that." Before he could shimmy onto the couch next to her, the tears were falling. "Why do women have to cry so much?" he grumbled.

"I wished him back."

"You did what!?" That just made her cry harder. "Now, I didn't mean that the way it sounded. What I meant was..er..."

"You meant it just as you said," Sarah admitted between sobs. "He came to ask me to return his magic and I wished him back. He tried to tell me that I didn't know what I was capable of, but I didn't listen."

"Seems to me it can't be that simple. Few things with Jareth are."

"It's not!" she cried standing up to pace across the floor. "Hoggle, I can't even remember how it all happened. It's a blur. A hazy dream that I can't wake up from." Sarah's eyes closed. "I went to my audition and the producer hired me on the spot. Then during a break I met this guy, his name was Tony something and he was auditioning for Marius and wanted to sing with me. He had an agent named Jeremy, only it wasn't Jeremy, it was Jareth. He was arrogant and conniving and got Tony in there without even an appointment somehow. I should have known then. Should have guessed it by the way he kissed my hand, but he looked so different."

"Tony?"

"No Jareth," Sarah confirmed opening her eyes. "He was in a suit and his hair was so much shorter, more coiffed. He didn't even have any make up on." She went to grab the grey herringbone jacket she'd left in the kitchen earlier that morning. "He threw it out!" Sarah rummaged through the apartment. "It was here, I pulled the crystal out of the pocket and set it back down on the...and then I went to rehearsal...and that sonofabitch threw it out while I was gone."

"Jareth?"

"No Christian!"

"Oh, you're not making any sense," Hoggle complained throwing his hands up in the air.

"Jareth was posing as an agent and Tony convinced him to put on a suit and cut his hair so he'd fit in more and not look so out of place. He left his suit coat here."

"How'd he get here?"

"Followed me from the auditions I guess. I was so excited that I danced and sung the whole way home. I think a herd of wild elephants could have come up behind me and I wouldn't have known." It took a minute, but as she recounted the story for Hoggle, Sarah realized that Jareth would have had to follow her in order to find her apartment. "And he saw the whole thing. Jareth saw me acting like a fool on the way home. He must have thought I was such an idiot."

Hoggle muttered under his breath, "Not likely," but Sarah didn't hear him.

"Jareth snuck up on me once we were inside the apartment. He asked if I knew him and I had to admit he was familiar, but he looked so ordinary, until I saw those eyes. I mean I should have realized sooner. The way he leaned back into the table, the cool and easy way he drew me to him. But I didn't figure it out until I kissed him..."

"Until you did what?" Hoggle interrupted.

But the storyteller wasn't paying attention anymore, "That's when I knew. When my eyes were closed and it was just the feel of him."

"Stop it, stop it," the dwarf snapped jumping down from the couch and standing at Sarah's feet. "What's with you always kissing people? Didn't you learn anything from last time we ended up in the Bog of Eternal Stench?" His short legs made his feet stomp and his arms were stretched out waiting to catch his head.

"Huh?" Sarah half broke from her recollection to take notice of her friend. "He started it," she grinned.

Hoggle made a noise with his throat and it was easy to assume that he was disgusted at the idea of Sarah being with Jareth in such a personal way. "Skip all the mushy stuff and get to where you wish him back."

The blush that kept returning made its appearance on her cheeks once again, "We were," she watched as Hoggle's eyes rolled, "preoccupied when Christian got home. He was furious when he saw Jareth. Thought he was the producer for the show and that I was earning my part."

More noises emerged from the dwarf, "Oh, I bet he did. Sarah, how could you be so irresponsible?"

She looked at him in disbelief. Had he really just said that to her? "Listen, you weren't there. You don't understand how charming he can be. Hoggle, it was amazing, for the first time I understood all he tried to tell me in the Labyrinth. He tried to love me, in his own way, but he tried. I was too young to understand about those things, but now, well let's just say that now the right words said the right way can all have a very powerful effect on a woman my age, especially when she's not used to hearing them."

"Even when they're said by a man who erased your memory?" Ironically, she'd forgotten that. "Even if he probably had some hidden agenda in mind?"

"But they weren't. I mean they were, but I swear he looked completely different and by the time I put two and two together I was already very taken with him." For a minute she looked dreamily off into the air that separated her from Hoggle. Then as if a pin had popped a delicate soap bubble, her euphoria faded away, "Jareth did want something. The powers he had given me, he wanted them back. But he didn't just come out and tell me that. Jareth tried to seduce me first. If Christian hadn't come home, he'd probably have succeeded too." Sarah did her best to sound angry.

Believing only half of her disappoint was in the fact that Jareth tried and sensing that the rest was from his not having succeeded, Hoggle flatly accused Sarah of not making the Goblin King try all that hard. Her hurt eyes bore into him, "Never mind all that. What's done is done and there's no use arguin' about it. What happened after Christian came home?"

"He said awful, awful things."

"Jareth?"

She shook her head wildly, "No, Christian. Jareth got between the two of us and Christian hit him. I went to see if Jareth was alright, but Christian tossed me aside and tore my dress. Then Jareth punched him a handful of times until he passed out."

"And you wished him home for sticking up for you?"

"No, that's when he told me the real reason he was here. I was hurt and confused. I knew I owed Christian an explanation. Part of me was feeling guilty about what I had allowed to happen with Jareth. So I asked him to leave. When he persisted, I wished him away to the Underground and told him to never contact me again."

"Eh," the tiny sound came from her friend. Hoggle's head buried into his palms. "That explains it," he mumbled.

"Explains what?"

"Sarah, all those years ago, Jareth gave you fey magic." Lifting his weary head so she could hear him more clearly, Hoggle continued, "What no one knew was that you had mortal magic of yer own. It's part of what helped you defeat him when you were Underground. Jareth risked everything to come Aboveground. He had to wager his power over all mortals, forever. You sent him back to the Labyrinth with no power over mortals and you forbid him to ever see you again. You might as well have taken an iron blade to his heart. Now the king's back home brooding over all that's transpired and the Underground is continuing to wither as he withers."

Comprehension washed over Sarah's face, "And it's all my fault."

"No, no, no," the dwarf paced, "it's his own damn fault for not being honest with you. Never mind whose fault it is. I've got to live in the kingdom with him, you don't"

Sarah sat down again. Suddenly her knees felt weak and her legs made of rubber. "Would this be a bad time to tell you that there's more to it?"

"Yes," Hoggle answered her honestly. "But tell me anyways."

Patting the spot next to her, Sarah indicated that he should rejoin her on the couch. "When Christian came to I was so pissed and he was being such an ass that I blurted out all the things I've felt for months. That's when I found Jareth's sport coat with the crystal and told him I'd sent the wrong man home."

Snorting, he told her, "Makes no difference. Even if you had 100 crystals you could never summon Jareth back."

"Never?" she asked apprehensively.

"Never."

Regret stung Sarah like tiny needles all over her skin. She was numb. "What about my mortal magic? Can that bring him home?"

"Jareth is home Sarah and you'd be smart to leave it that way."

"But I owe him an apology."

"What's said is said."

Furious, she balled her hands into fists, "Why must you all talk that way? Apologies are made every day. Mistakes fixed. Scripts rewritten. Scenes redone. I can make this right."

Gently the dwarf took her hand into his own, "You've denied him twice now. You've had a taste for what he's like, do you honestly believe he'll let you get close enough to do it again?"

Hoggle was right. Sarah knew it even if she didn't want to admit it. "Then what good is magic, fey or mortal, if I can't fix anything with it?"

"That's not always what magic does." Resisting wasn't an option. Hoggle knew that sooner or later, he'd have to explain Sarah's magic to her. Now seemed just as good a time as any. "Sarah you were born with mortal magic, every mortal is. Thing is, most of 'em stop believin' in it before it even develops. You were different. You believed in mythicals and magic to begin with."

"What are mythicals?"

Did he say she could ask questions? Oh, her friendship was frustrating, but she was who she was and to him it was worth it. "Mythicals are anything that mortals have trouble believin' in. The creatures of the Underground and other kingdoms, other realms." Clearing his throat he got the discussion back on track. "Because you believed and did so much to actively call your magic it never left, but you didn't know how to develop the skill, so it was weak. I don't completely understand mortal magic. I know each mortal can have a different kind, sometimes two or three kinds. Typically, a mortal will be labeled artistic. They can do something with their physical talent, sing, paint, write. Only they do it in a way that's able to touch other people. But you see, it's more than art, it's magic. You make people feel what you want 'em to feel. Think, hear or see what you want. It's a mortal's need for control. There are other more unique magics. With mortals they're less about disruptin' the elements and more about manipulatin' the physical. Your kind will move things about or touchin' somethin' will spark sight. You obviously had the more common form of mortal magic and then Jareth went and gave you fey magic. Fey magic is more about disruptin' the elements, fabricatin' crystals and changin' their forms, glamours, wishes, reorderin' time, changin' the properties of the universe, creatin' material..."

"Destroying it," Sarah interrupted.

"Sometimes." No sense in keeping the truth from her. "When you defeated him your mortal magic grew stronger. By then you'd started to deny yourself the fey magic and yer natural powers were stunted to the artistic ones I just described." A heavy sigh escaped him, "Now that you and Jareth have shared souls..."

"Oh no, it didn't go that far."

Hoggle laughed at her naivety. "You kissed didn't ya?"

She nodded.

"When fey kiss out of love Sarah, they exchange bits of their souls. You worry about what you would have lost if Jareth had completed his seduction, but the truth is that he stood to lose more than you. As it is, he's given up so much of himself that it's had a physical effect on the Labyrinth." Sarah looked away, but the dwarf pressed on sure that she was too curious to be ignoring him. "Like I said, now that you hold a piece of his soul, your fey powers are heightened. Have you tried manipulatin' the crystal?"

"I rolled it around a little, got it to jump into my hand." What did all this matter? How was it going to fix things between her and Jareth?

"Good. I see you haven't broken it, that's good. It's magic is tuned to you now and it's heightenin' your mortal magic."

The watch! Sarah reached out and grabbed the gold ornament. Squeezing it tightly in her palm the visions consumed her once again. There was that hand. "Hoggle, I can see Christian buying this watch," she whispered.

Jareth's magic had sparked sight in Sarah after all. It had been a long time since a seer had been in the Underground, but Hoggle remembered some of the basics and he talked Sarah through what she was experiencing. "You must keep this all in perspective. What yer seeing is just an image. It can't hurt you any. You control the situation. Look around, yer not limited to what it shows you."

The hand was touching Christian's again. Sarah forced herself to look up the ambiguous appendage, up the narrow arm to the bared shoulder. "There's a woman. She's smiling at him." Sarah turned her eyebrows as though she was listening very carefully.

"You make that look very good," the woman said.

Christian was smiling back at her as he turned the watch over and over in the light. "Do you think?"

"Um huh," she purred. "And you're in luck. We're running a special today? Buy that watch and you can have all my spare time this Saturday." Was she trying to be clever? Christian quickly handed her a wad of cash.

"Well that explains where he was going!" Sarah cried as her vision seemed to fast forward. The rushing images made her fall back on the couch. "Hoggle?" she called out.

"I'm here Sarah. Listen for my voice. I can't touch you while you're having a vision, but you should be able to hear me. I ain't gonna leave you." It was troubling him to see her this way and he felt so helpless. "Damn you Jareth," he whispered.

"Mr. Standyne," she called to him from a table in the corner of a dark restaurant.

He sat with her, "Call me Christian," he instructed her as he joined her there.

Images were moving about, speeding up and slowing down. Sarah wanted to let go of the watch, but the object in her hand seemed to sense her thoughts and shook violently with more to say. The couple was laughing and drinking. Innocent conversational touches grew to be something more and despite her clenched eyes, Sarah was seeing it all. The strange woman's foot slid from her black heeled shoe and worked it's way up his leg. Nestled in his crotch, her ankle rotated. Christian looked as though he were going to lose control of himself at the table. A cocktail of anger and disgust mixed in Sarah's stomach. She watched her lover gingerly stand, toss a handful of bills to the table and guide the stranger from the restaurant under his protective arm to his vehicle. As he drove, the woman worked at his restrictive pieces of clothing, a tie, a belt. Then it was her shoes that came off. By the time they'd gotten to the parking lot of the hotel neither one had enough clothing remaining to approach the office. He didn't suggest that they do it. Quite the contrary, he told her how beautiful she looked, how much she made him crazy. Then she persuaded him to the back seat where, in an act of blatant exhibitionism that was remarkably unlike Christian, the couple engaged in a variety of sexual acts; exchanging oral gratification with one another and culminating in unprotected intercourse.

Sarah felt herself deflate. It had been years of her trying to get him to be more adventurous, wanting to please him but feeling as though she had never been given the opportunity and there he was satisfying himself with another woman without any concern for disease or pregnancy or the sanctity of what little relationship he had with his long-term girlfriend. They scurried for their clothes when they noticed a patrol car passing the parking lot. Christian drove her back to her car, jabbering the whole way. He went on about how this was very unlike him and she had been the first woman he had cheated with. Feelings of truthfulness came over Sarah and they were very strong. It pleased her to believe him because at least she knew that if he had brought anything home, he wouldn't be giving it to her. The woman in the passenger seat smiled weakly as she got out of the car. "Can I give you a call?" Christian asked her. She obviously didn't want any baggage. A good time was all she was searching for and all his heavy confessions had destroyed what chemistry had been between them because she shook her head side to side and blew him a kiss as her long legs swept over the concrete on the way back to her car.

Having admitted everything it knew, the watch stilled in her palm and she set it back on the table. Tears were filling her eyes, but she refused to let them fall as she concentrated on the blue in Hoggle's sympathetic stare. "He cheated on me."

"I figured as much from the look on your face." Standing on the cushions, he reached out to stroke her hair. "He doesn't deserve you Sarah." After some time of her sitting, staring off silently he asked, "Do you understand your mortal magic now?"

'Better than I want to,' Sarah thought as the shock started to subside. "What can I do with the crystal?"

"Are you sure you're ready?"

"What the hell do I have to lose?" Her body felt numb and she wondered why people were always saying the truth hurt. Right now, she couldn't feel a thing.

"It's hard to explain, but I'll try. Jareth offered you your dreams. He granted yer wishes. Wanted yer needs to be met. That's why when you left you had to need us if we were to return to you." As he spoke, Sarah had called the crystal to her and spun it mindlessly in her palm. "If you look in that thing you can see your dreams. If you wish for them they should come true."

Quickly, Sarah stared into the ball until she could see Jareth again, "I wish I had Jareth back!" she shouted.

"Told you that won't work," Hoggle said, triumph apparent in his voice. "You can't undo yer own wishes." In his heart, he didn't think Sarah was ready for the crystal or the power that came with it. "Just give me that thing 'fore you cause yerself anymore problems."

"How am I gonna do that?" she asked with little emotion. She was just like Jareth, stubborn and gloomy, bent on punishing herself.

"Just give it to me." The dwarf made a clumsy grab for the sphere and toppled into her lap. Sitting himself up right he grumbled some more.

"What else can it do?"

"Depends."

"On..."

"On what powers Jareth gave you this last visit. I can't believe he was fool enough to leave it with you in the first place. That was supposed to be his key home if he got trapped here in the Aboveground." Hoggle's mouth hung open as he watched his words register in Sarah's head.

It wasn't quite a gleam, but her skin lit up and she smiled into the crystal, "This is a key to the Underground?"

"No!"

"But you just said," she confronted him.

"Never mind what I said. Don't you get any ideas," his finger wagged at her. "You can't just show up in the Underground, Jareth's on a war path and the Tri..."

His words went on, but Sarah was lost in a vision of she and Jareth swaying on a dance floor. He held her close as she whispered her apology to him. Her mortal magic and her fey magic were mixing her up, causing her to see her dreams as reality. "If I can't get him to come to me," she said slowly, "I'll just go to him."

Sarah rose and Hoggle fell to the floor as he made one more attempt to steal the crystal from her hand. Immediately he hopped to his feet and was after her reaching for the orb. Extending one hand to make contact with his leather cap she held him at bay. Repeatedly he shouted, "It's not fair." His stout arms and legs shook and flailed as he attempted to break free of her hold and recover the object but it was no use, she had a significant height advantage over him and he tired quickly. "I ain't gonna talk you outta this am I?" he yielded.

Side to side her black hair waved at the back of her concrete skull.

His hand held his head again. "Why do I bother."

"What do I have to do Hoggle?"

"How should I know?"

For a moment she'd forgotten how he expected to have questions asked of him and was irritated by his seeming indifference to her. Then in a moment of recollection she rephrased her query, "How do I use this as a key to the Underground?"

"First you must be certain that you truly wish to attempt this. Mortals are not very welcome in our world. If you decide to continue on this idiot's quest and if Jareth has given you enough power, which I fear from your recount he has, then you need only look into the crystal, envision the Underground and wish yourself there. But I just want to be perfectly clear in telling you that I definitely do not suggest you do this."

"Thank you Hoggle," Sarah said as she leaned down to kiss his cheek.

"Oh," he grumbled, "stop kissing everybody!" He was half joking as he disappeared from her living room.

On the couch, Sarah sat still spinning the crystal. Was she really considering doing this? Why? So she could tell Jareth she was sorry? Was she? The questions led to more questions and there were never any decent answers. She did feel rotten about what had most recently happened, but all those years ago when he took Toby away, she wasn't sorry for that. She still despised the way he tormented her when they last shared the Underground. Aside from all the to hate or not to hate there was something else consuming her. Maturity had brought with it an understanding of what an adult male meant when he begged a young girl to love him. At fifteen the Goblin King was still an asexual creature, another bizarre illusion of the Labyrinth. At thirty, he'd become a man to her. Tall and long, lithe and handsome in a way that no one else could be and full of a very tangible passion that few others possessed. Unlike the girl she'd been, the woman in Sarah prayed to fall victim to him again.

Soon it was obvious that allowing ones mind to wander while holding a crystal was a not particularly a good idea. Inside the orb she could see Jareth smiling back at her as if he were standing the arm's length from her rather than his image trapped beneath the transparent shell. The crystal rolled up the length of her arm and spun against her neck. Sarah could hear soft laughter in her ear and felt warm breath on her skin. A warmth took over inside her as she lay back her head succumbing to the magic her king had left behind.

Interrupted again by Christian's incredible lack of timing, she quickly tucked the crystal behind one of the couch cushions when she heard him approaching. Her twitching fingers reached for the remote and turned on the television. Some nature special was on so Sarah feigned an interest in the preservation movement for panda bears as her roommate entered. Christian's brother, Joshua, was with him, liquor on their breaths. "Hello Christian. Hello Joshua," she said plainly.

"Hi Sarah," Joshua replied. His brother just grunted. "Hope you don't mind if I help Chris pack up his stuff."

"I was just thinking about that," Sarah lied. Well it was only a half lie. She was thinking about what had gone on those last few days and Christian's leaving was part of that bigger picture. "Christian doesn't have to leave."

"Do you see?" he slurred at Joshua his arms barely controlled enough to stretch out to indicate it was Sarah he was talking about. "I've been putting up with that for three years. It's been Christian leave, Christian don't go, Christian let's get married, no Christian I can't marry you until we get our careers in order. How the hell am I supposed to make her happy when she doesn't even know what makes her happy?"

"Sit down before you fall down little brother." Joshua led him to a chair and sat himself next to the woman he had always secretly hoped would one day be his sister-in-law. He turned to address her, "Sarah you know there are few times I agree with my brother, even fewer since I've met you," Sarah smiled at him warmly as he continued, "but even I have to admit, you're not making any sense."

"I don't want to make sense. With Christian I always had to be the responsible one. I worked, I paid the bills and took care of the house. What did it get me?" Her attention focused like a laser on the man in the chair, "He runs off and sleeps with a complete stranger who sells him an overpriced watch that he couldn't even pay for on his own in the first place."

Hurling through the air, the timepiece landed in Christian's stomach with a thwack. Instinctively he picked it up. Staring at it was like downing a pot of black coffee suddenly making him feel incredibly sober. "I...how?...someone lied to you Sarah." Reason had never been a strong point for Christian.

"You lied to me!"

"Well what did you expect? You can be awfully cold sometimes and a man gets lonely. He needs to be reminded that he still has it."

'What an unbelievable load of shit!' Sarah thought, but instead her mouth spat out, "I was naked in the shower the morning you left. You could of as easily had me as her. Christ, I would have enjoyed it. I don't think you've touched me outside our bedroom, in the light, in all the time we've been together." She blushed remembering that Joshua was there. "Don't you think a woman needs a little reassurance too, especially just a few days after her thirtieth birthday?"

Head in hand he had to admit it, "OK, I screwed up. OK? I'm sorry."

Oh this was rich! Did he really consider that an apology? Though Sarah never thought it possible Christian was proving himself more useless by the minute.

"So you found out about him and the sales woman and set up the little scene with..." Joshua fumbled for a name.

"Jeremy?" Sarah offered. "No. I didn't find out about her until this afternoon. What I told him was true. Jeremy," she hated calling Jareth by his pseudonym, "is an old friend from my past and seeing him brought up a lot of emotion for me."

"Old is right!" Christian blurted.

Joshua could see something in Sarah's eyes. He didn't feel he knew her well enough to say just what, but he knew the two of them well enough to know that his younger sibling had screwed up the best relationship he'd ever had, impressed by the determination in Sarah's rigid form, the best thing he ever would have. "So you're saying..."

Sarah cut him off, "That Christian doesn't have to leave."

"I knew you'd forgive me baby." Stammering across the room he made a lunge for her. "You couldn't bear to be without me could you? Well, I'll take you back even after what you did with the geezer, but you're gonna have to earn my trust again." He collapsed between her and Joshua on the floor. His head resting on Sarah's knee.

Gentility aside, she shoved it away. "I'm leaving." Joshua looked at her in shock. Christian wasn't hearing any of the conversation as unconsciousness put him in a dream state far from reality. "If you wouldn't mind Josh, I'd like you to scoop your brother off the floor and put him to bed at your place. By morning, I'll be gone."

"Are you sure this is what you want Sarah?"

A brotherly hand overtook her own and she spent a moment realizing how nice it was to have someone ask her about herself, to show concern for her well being. With her other hand she patted the back of Joshua's hand and smiled sweetly at him. The tears in her eyes glistening as she told him, "No, but that just makes me want it more."

Thankfully, Joshua didn't argue with Sarah. Even more thankfully, Christian stayed sleeping until well after he'd left the apartment. The small apartment was empty again, but for Sarah who was busily making herself something to eat, "Ought to take a little something for sustenance," she said as she set aside some fruits and cheeses, a bag of carrot sticks and a box of crackers. She microwaved herself a plate of left-overs. Irony overcame her as she began laughing at the digital display, the numbers counting down. She ate well as she didn't want to be getting hungry ten minutes into her adventure.

After filling herself to near bursting, Sarah decided to shower. Hot water relaxed every joint and muscle in her body. She scrubbed her skin, washed her hair and since she wasn't sure how long she'd be gone, Sarah shaved her underarms and legs. 'Better safe than sorry,' she figured. Grabbing the back brush, she worked the bristles into a thick lather. Abrasive stalks took the itch out of her skin, but when they found the bruise on her shoulder that Jareth had caused, Sarah moaned. The flesh was still tender but also still fresh with reverie for the exhilaration she'd felt. It occurred to her that cold water might have been a better choice for showering.

Silk clung to her body as Sarah wrapped a flimsy robe around herself. A half dozen outfits were spread over the mattress before it occurred to her that at most she'd only be able to take one bag. Not even a large one. She had a brown leather knapsack she could take. It was oversized, but not so huge it would be cumbersome. Besides, it had lots of little pockets. Even if Sarah didn't know what she wanted to put in them, it made her feel better knowing they were there. Two pairs of jeans were neatly folded so they wouldn't take up any more room than necessary at the bottom of the bag. On top of those she put in a peasant's top and a long sleeve cable knit sweater. Her last visit to the Underground hadn't been all that uncomfortable in the thin painter's shirt and vest she was wearing, but it was a different time of year. Thirteen hours in the Labyrinth wasn't really enough time to figure out seasonal patterns.

Next the staples, socks, bras, underwear. Sarah made sure to include one pair that she found particularly attractive. All white lace, they covered more than most of her everyday pairs did, but they cut in a way that accented her back side and the lace left enough for a peak. 'Hopefully that would be more enticing than just letting it all hang out,' she thought as she folded them. "Are you going to apologize to him or seduce him?" she asked her reflection. 'Little of both,' Sarah imagined her ego saying back. With a raise of her eyebrow, she agreed. There was plenty of room left in the bag. Just to be safe Sarah chose a lightweight summer shift dress to put inside. It was elegant and simple. A polyblend base with a rayon top layer that blew easily in the wind, dancing around her. It was her favorite, next to the red number she had bought for her audition.

One last time, Sarah looked around this room that she'd spent the last twelve years in. Oddly enough, not much had been accumulated in all that time aside from an impressive collection of musical soundtracks. Suddenly it occurred to her, a tiny thought that had always been in the back of her mind was now rushing into the foreground and growing exponentially along the way, what if Sarah never made it home? What if she couldn't? What if she weren't permitted? What if something happened and she... "Don't be ridiculous!" Sarah chastised herself for thinking such things, "It's the Labyrinth, not the lion's den." Her last visit had only cost her a few hours. She set her robe over the back of her chair and a chill swept over her body helping to force the horrid thoughts from her mind. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror of the dressing table. Typically, Sarah dressed and undressed with no great interest in her naked self. Thirty had come and gone without damaging her too badly. There were ten or fifteen pounds she could have stood to get rid of, but that probably stood true for most every woman at any time. Despite what Christian thought and how he acted, it was an attractive body.

He didn't deserve courtesy, but Sarah couldn't sink herself to his level. She sat at the desk and wrote him a letter. It was basic, but it was more than he deserved for how he had treated her. She told him it wasn't his fault she was leaving that she needed to do this for herself. Her things could be packed and put in storage as long as he let her father know how she could get them when she came back. Even though she doubted very much he would do that, probably just sell her things off and pocket the profit. She left behind a lie to tell her parents. Stuart offered her a six month trip to England to study stage with the masters and she was taking advantage of it. Something inside her wondered if her parents would even ask. She hadn't gotten a call for her birthday. She hadn't gotten a call at all in more than a year. 'That makes it all the more simple,' she decided as she signed the letter. Sarah. Not love, not sincerely, not even thinking of you. Just Sarah.

Dressing in jeans and a middle weight long sleeve shirt that looked very much like a man's dress shirt only extraordinarily long. The garment was a throw back to her eighties younger years, but she could never bare to get rid of it. Now she was up to two security blankets. The dresser and the shirt...and the book! She grabbed her bag and burst into the living room. Her copy of the Labyrinth went into the bag along with everything else. Lastly she added the food. One of the pockets on the side of her bag was designed for a water bottle. Sarah slid in a bottle of Dasani and then busied herself going over her mental list of what she needed to take with her. Seemingly, she had everything and nothing all at the same time. There was no turning back. Despite everything she had thought, to the good and to the bad, she still wanted to pick up that crystal and wish herself away, out of this apartment, away from Christian. Away from this miserable city where she was constantly pretending to be someone else. Eponine! She was walking out on playing Eponine. Sarah reached into her closet and pulled down a pair of neutral colored dress boots which she thought would go with just about everything she had packed. This role was the one thing that could reignite her career. Sitting down on the couch to put her boots on Sarah wished things could become clear to her, something that would tell her she wasn't turning her back on what Stuart thought was the opportunity of a lifetime.

The crystal popped out of the couch cushions and rolled to place before her eyes. Inside she could see the producer of the show she was to appear in. He was taking money from a man Sarah had never seen before. One image faded as another rose, the front page of a local paper showing the same group under a headline that read 'Embezzling Producer Presents - Curtains Close Before They Open'. The date of the paper was three weeks in the future. All that hard work and it would have been for nothing. Tony was the next thought on her mind. As though the crystal knew that, the image inside changed again. Tony was dancing and singing a part from West Side Story and Sarah recognized the stage he was on as she would recognize her own father in a crowd. He was on Broadway. A tear rolled down Sarah's cheek and for the first time in longer than she cared to think about it fell from happiness. The show that was supposed to be her big break had been scandalized. Her only friend had made it to the only stage that mattered. But in all the visions of this world the crystal had to show her, Sarah saw nothing of promise for herself.

A new determination filled her. She slung the bag over her shoulder as a shaking hand reached out to grab the crystal. Concentrating, she forced an image of the Labyrinth into her mind. Clouds swirled inside the orb as a surge of heat rushed down her arm and into her fingertips. When the clouds cleared, it was the view from the second story balcony window of her parents' old home. The doors had been thrown open and the curtains blew wild in a wind that came from nowhere. Sarah moved forward in the image looking out over the balcony rails to a vast desert land that led to acres of maze, a castle rising high above the walls. "It doesn't look that far," she heard herself say.

"It's further than you think," the wind answered as she turned to see her old house was gone. Eager feet pounded on the reddish sand beneath them as she ran toward the maze.

"I wish I was back there," Sarah said. "I wish it with all my heart."

This time the apartment was truly empty.


	10. Chapter 10

**CHAPTER TEN - IN A STUMP IN THE FOREST THERE LIVED A HOGGLE**

A smell of magic filled the air surrounding her and Sarah breathed it in with a deep appreciation before she opened her eyes to take in the sights around her. "Holy shit!" she gasped in the middle of the great emptiness, suddenly feeling like the foolish fifteen year old from some other time. Things around her looked much the same as she remembered them only deader. What was grey had gone black. The red clay that led up to the doors of the Labyrinth had turned to sand now rising in puffs behind her heels. A few steps away lay her crystal. Her hand reached out for it, but when her warm skin made contact with it, the orb popped as though it had been made of soap. For a moment or so she stood there not sure what it meant for her to be in such a place as this without one of Jareth's crystals. Then, seeing no alternative, she continued on the short road to the doors, sliding the last third of the way when a pile of the flimsy dust came loose and her less than suitable footwear combined to drop her at the foot of a familiar face.

"Oh, it's you," Hoggle said reaching a hand out to help her stand.

Sarah brushed herself off. "Hoggle, it worked!"

"I see that."

"You could show a little enthusiasm."

Thick legs cast him a foot or so into the air as his arms flailed, "Yippy!" Sarcasm, blatant and obvious, filled his tone.

"Thanks a lot Hoggle." A touch of her own sarcasm in the words, it was more her hurt and disappoint Sarah was trying to convey. "So what do I do now?" She hadn't intended to ask that aloud, but it had been said now. Too late to take it back.

"Looks like you haven't thought about this very much." The dwarf crossed his arms over his chest and snorted, "I warned you."

It was hard not to let the tears rush to her eyes when he was being so cold to her, but she made certain none of those tears fell. "I meant there's so much I want to do and see, I hardly know where to begin."

"S'hat so?" Hoggle's eyebrows rose as he asked the rhetorical question. Pursing the corner of his mouth, he continued on, "I'll tell you what yer not gonna do. Night's preparin' to fall and the Labyrinth is the last place you wanna be at night." Coldness was rapidly being replaced by concern in his tone.

Food and clothing had been on her mind when she was packing, but shelter never occurred to her. Last time she visited the Labyrinth, night had never fallen and it was just as late then as now. "I didn't think you guys experienced night here."

"Hmpf! You wouldn't. Jareth was so busy reorderin' time for you that night got skipped in yer honor." Hoggle took notice of the spark his words left in her eye. He supposed, to her, it seemed like a compliment. "You'll come and spend the night with Drema and me."

"Fantastic!" Sarah started toward the door, but Hoggle called to stop her.

"I might work in and around the Labyrinth, but I don't live in it." He explained.. Reaching out a hand and giving a jerk of his head, Hoggle drew Sarah back to his side. When he felt her tiny hand slide into his he directed, "This way." A few steps into their path away from the Labyrinth the dwarf realized that he'd forgotten his atomizer. "Wait here," he told Sarah when he left her to go get it. 'That's odd,' he thought when he bent over to pick up the rusty sprayer. The ground where Sarah had stood was green and the path they had walked away on was dotted with blades of grass. "By the Supreme One," he said aloud, "She's bringin' the Underground to life." Now he knew he couldn't hide her from Jareth, not for long anyway. The king would not overlook changes in his kingdom and he would appreciate them even less. Fear swept over Hoggle's face and gave his feet new fury as he ran to catch up with Sarah.

If it was true that Sarah's presence was bringing the Underground to life, and it was, the same could be said in return. Sarah felt alive. She no longer had to mold herself to fit a role. Here it wasn't necessary to feign interest in any of a hundred topics Christian wanted to discuss. Stuart wasn't preparing for auditions by giving her topics to study that would impress some producer rather than just focusing on her talent, which should have been the selling point to begin with. Freedom was hers to run wild in and it thrilled her. A pulsing warmth grew inside her chest. The sensation spread to her arms and legs reaching all the way to her fingers and toes. She caught a smile beginning to tug at the corners of her mouth. It had been a long time since Sarah hadn't forced one of those.

"Quit yer daydreamin'," Hoggle called up to his traveling companion.

Snapped out of her own self indulgence, Sarah took a moment to look around. To any side of them were tall trees with wide trunks. If they hadn't been walking away from the Labyrinth, she would have expected the fire gang to come rushing out of the thickets ready to be as helpful as they could with their bizarre song and dance. Instead she saw a wide array of other creatures. Her eyes could not grow large enough to take it all in. "Hoggle," she began in a low calm tone trying to be wary of the surroundings which were becoming more bizarre the further they walked, "where are we?"

In retrospect, the dwarf realized he should have better prepared her for what she was about to see, but the easy part of the past was the fact that you couldn't change it. Hearty laughter wheezed from his lungs, "This is my home. The southeastern sector of the Underground beyond the Labyrinth walls. It's a protected woodland where wood sprites, elves and dwarfs," he accentuated by drawing his hands to his chest, "are primarily assigned to live." From the corner of his eye he spied another pesky fairy and drew back the hand pump of his atomizer. "Of course, there are no formal boundaries here," he depressed the handle and a cloud of smoke engulfed the fairy before it fell to the ground, "which means any old riff raff can wander in."

On the path before them a rabbit scurried passed. It paused a second and met Sarah's gaze eye to eye. For a second she could have sworn she saw it's pupils grow wide in surprise and it's ears jolt back, but it was gone before she could be sure. "Did you see that?"

"See what?" Hoggle asked nastily, when she interrupted his victory dance performed for having killed another fairy.

"There was a rabbit up ahead by those trees and I swear it just looked at me."

"Oh no, not already. Was he 'bout this big?" Hoggle indicated with his hands the size of an average cat, "Snowy white?"

Sarah nodded.

"Damned Easter Bunny," Hoggle cursed. It made Sarah giggle. "I wouldn't laugh if I was you. If he decides to tell Tiberon you're here, Jareth will be hunting for you by morning, if he waits that long."

"Whose Tiberon? And what makes you think that Jareth would want to hunt me?" Sarah asked.

"I'll explain when I gets you home," he told her flatly and began dragging her through the woods as his tiny legs pumped with all their might.

All the little creatures seemed to take notice of the two of them rushing by. Sarah assumed it was because they were curious as to why they were moving so quickly, but their faces weren't showing curiosity. They weren't fearful that something terribly dangerous was on their heals. They smiled beneath their steady stares. Their faces were happy. It made Sarah smile too. She felt safe here.

"Just a few more stumps," Hoggle told her between gasps for breath. "Come on."

The feeling of safety was fleeting as Sarah looked ahead a few stumps and saw a tall fey leaning against what remained of an oak. His high black leather boots caught her attention first, then the black tights, the white painter's shirt, the black coat, black gloves and black hair. Until the hair she thought it was Jareth waiting for them. Sarah was even more frightened when she realized she didn't know who in the hell it was that stood poised with a Cheshire grin waiting for them. "Ho...Ho...Hoggle!" Her feet refused to move and the dwarf was jerked back to her stationary position forcing him to take his attention off of the ground.

His eyes met with Tiberon's as nervous laughter preceded his shaky vocalization, "Ah, ah...you see, I was surveyin' the gates for the night and, um...well you know how out of it Jareth's been lately, he must have taken another baby and the mortal was gonna go into the Labyrinth. And so...I told her until I could reach Jareth and he reordered time, it wasn't safe...my code permitted me from lettin' her enter the maze." Where had that come from.

"I see," Tiberon told the dwarf, never removing his stare from Sarah. Terrified, she looked away. The fey moved in on her trying to force her to fully reveal her face. "And what is the mortal's name?"

Sarah didn't answer, she could barely breathe. "Ruth," Hoggle attempted to say as naturally as possible. It was a mortal name, he knew that much. Jareth had taken a baby girl from a sitter whose name was Ruth about a year ago.

"And how long ago was the child taken?"

Glancing at a watch that wasn't on his wrist, "Nearly three hours," the dwarf chose.

"Ah then I should go tell our sire that his mortal is present and wishes to engage in the, what is it now, twelve hour, battle for her child." He rose his hand gesturing as though he were going to transport himself immediately.

"No, no, that won't be necessary. I've already let him know that she's here. I just haven't told him about night fallin'. He'll want her to have the benefit of light so that it's a fair fight between them."

Tiberon spun on Hoggle, "When has Jareth ever been interested in what was fair?" He rose to face the young woman, "And besides," he continued taking her hand, covering it with his other hand as he felt it quaking, "it is my duty and privilege as Representative to greet those who enter my sector." Tiberon took to one knee and kissed the delicate hand he held. "Ms. Williams?"

Horrified that she'd been recognized and by a stranger, the woman hastily drew back her hand. Hoggle charged forward waving a finger at Tiberon, "Now you see here, you've got no business with her. She's here as my guest."

Gently, he lay a hand on Hoggle's shoulder, "Calm yourself little one. I am no Judas. Were I to hastily announce the arrival of the Legend, I would do myself the disservice of missing the opportunity to get to know her better." A hearty laughter filled the space between them. Tiberon rose and addressed Sarah, "You miss, have a great following here in the Underground. Most of us have come to refer to you as the Legend while honestly believing that we would never meet the woman behind the tale, yet here you stand, the mortal child who defeated the King of the Goblins, Ruler of the Underground. It is with great pleasure that I extend to you the use of my lands and of my services." He bowed low to her in respect.

Sarah was stunned. These people thought of her as a legend. "No one's ever beaten him before?" she asked innocently.

The Representative of the Southeastern sector rose from his bow with a chuckle on his lips, "No one before and no one since, miss."

"Please call me Sarah."

"Sarah," he repeated. "What business have you in the Underground?"

Hoggle gave her a wary glance. After all, no one but the three of them knew what had transpired between Sarah and Jareth. The Representatives already found him uptight and out of sorts, two thirds of the Triumvirate thought he was evil, might as well save what little reputation he had left. "I've come to visit with some old friends," she told him. Her eyes met Tiberon's and their individuality made her words trail off. This fey had violet eyes, electric violet, if such a color existed.

"Our King has been quite smitten with you for a number of years and while I'm sure he'd be enraptured to see you on any average occasion he's been quite the ogre as of late."

Perhaps a bit too smugly Sarah replied, "Then I shall save his visit for another day."

Tiberon laughed again, "You are rich." He went on, holding his side, "Save his visit for another day, really, you, meaning to go to the castle after all you've done to him. You mean me to think you the heartless creature that all fey have come to believe mortals to be. I am very much intimidated Sarah Williams." He backed away from her in mock fear, "Please spare me the awesome power of your mortal magic."

"He don't know any better Sarah," Hoggle whispered. "Laugh it off and bid him goodnight."

Sarah chuckled uneasily, "That's right, now off with you Tiberon, lest I turn you into a toad. I bid you goodnight."

"Goodnight, then." Tiberon's laughter could be heard well into the wood, even after he walked away.

"Damn rabbit," Hoggle said to Sarah. "He's always buttin' his twitchy little nose in where it don't belong. Him and his big ears constantly hoppin' from sector to sector overhearin' what's not meant for him to know." He turned to Sarah, "Let's get you inside. This may itch a bit," he warned her as his hand waved and a cloud of glitter blocked her vision for a moment.

When everything settled, Sarah was looking eye to eye with the dwarf and yet standing tall at the same time. "What have you done?" she cried as she tried to adjust to her new point of view. Is this the kind of thing Hoggle saw everyday? 'Christ no wonder he's such a coward,' she caught herself thinking. 'To him Jareth must have seemed twelve feet tall.'

"Relax, it's just to get you into my house. The spell will break the moment you set foot back outside my front door." Hoggle was a bit hurt by her insinuation. It had been a long time since she had spoken to him that way, but a lot had happened to her today and he chalked it up to all that. "What are you waitin' fer? Get inside." He held open the door for her.

"'Bout time you decided to come home," Drema turned expecting a dawdling husband and met instead the miniaturized Sarah, "Oh excuse me! I thought you were..."

"I know what ya thought," Hoggle interrupted as he came around to give a more formal introduction. He leaned in to kiss his wife, "Drema, this is Sarah Williams." Drema's face could not hide her shock. "Sarah, my wife, Drema."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance," Drema said to Sarah as she extended her hand.

Overcome, Sarah reached for the woman and pulled her into a tight embrace. This was the woman who agreed to name her child after Sarah, having never met her. Drema responded with a grasp of her own. In her arms she held a woman who had once been very important to her husband and obviously still was. Hoggle fought back a tear which threatened to fall from his eyes. "You must be starving," Drema insisted as she stretched Sarah out to arm's length. "Come with me, we'll finish setting the table."

Sarah followed Hoggle's wife into their humble kitchen. "Dishes are in the cubbie above the sink, if you don't mind."

"Not at all," she replied as she stretched to wrap her fingers around three plates. She wondered if Hoggle had felt this strange when he visited her world. The women continued to busy themselves in the kitchen. Sarah heard Hoggle playing with the baby in the next room. A sensation filled her that had been vacant since her adolescent days. This had been what home and family felt like to her before Linda ran off with her co-star and her father replaced her mother with Karen. Things had been good then, even if it had been only briefly. Tiny feet pounding off the earthen floor distracted her from what she had been thinking and before her stood the brightest eyed child she had seen Above or Underground in all her years.

"You're Sarah?" the little one asked.

"I am," she replied.

"I am too," the baby told her. "One Sarah," she said holding up one finger and half singing. "Sarah two." This time she held up three fingers and pointed at her mother's helper. It made the mortal smile. Drema smiled along with them. In the other room, Hoggle smiled as well. Finally he let that tear fall, by now it had brought a few friends, but suddenly he didn't mind.

The women set the table with the help of the toddler who insisted on carrying the silverware. They all took their seats and Hoggle bowed his head and spoke some words of thanks. Cabbage soup was served with a side of fresh greens and some sort of broiled meat. Sarah didn't ask what kind of beast it was for fear she would be repulsed by the answer, though she was sure it wasn't chicken. Sarah One as she had begun calling herself, sat obediently in her high chair eating a bowl of porridge and spinach. Most of it landed on her clothes or in her hair, but she was getting every other spoon in her mouth and that seemed like it was good enough for her parents.

Drema was eager to hear Sarah's take on her first meeting with Hoggle. He tried to postpone the inevitable by interrupting, "I already told you that story."

His wife dismissed him, "I want to hear it the way Sarah sees it."

"Sarah two," the baby chimed in, "her is Sarah two." Despite the three pudgy porridge covered fingers she extended everyone knew what she meant.

After clearing the table and cleaning the baby, the two women went on with each other for hours about how the mortal had found him spraying the fairies. Sarah explained how she had thought him difficult at first, but in hindsight he had taught her valuable lessons which she kept with her even today. Hoggle smiled proudly though he was headlong into his newspaper now trying to appear uninterested in what he overheard them saying. Recounting the number of times Hoggle had come to her aid forced Sarah to realize just how much she relied on the dwarf. Although they had agreed between themselves to start fresh, she still felt as though she would never be able to do enough to repay his kindness and generosity. Drema shared some of Hoggle's stories with Sarah and the women chuckled over tiny discrepancies like who had been braver or who had needed rescuing more. When retelling about visits Hoggle had made to the Aboveground at Sarah's request, Drema's voice gave away much excitement. She had always wanted to visit the famed Aboveground, but never really had the opportunity.

"Well then, having met you, when I return Aboveground I will call for you," Sarah told her.

From behind his paper Hoggle broke his silence, "If you return."

"What do you mean?" Sarah asked concerned.

Hoggle folded the paper, "Sooner or later Jareth is gonna find out that yer here Sarah. Honestly, how long do you think you can hide out in a fey's backyard before he finds you? And when he does, well I'm just sayin', I don't think he's gonna make it so simple for you to go back."

"Well if he doesn't I'll use my magic." Though she tried to sound confident, it was the chattering of her teeth that forced the words out of her mouth.

The dwarf grunted, "What magic? Mortal magic won't get you home. In fact, it's just gonna grow weaker the longer you're here. Yer fey magic won't get any stronger unless Jareth allows it and I don't see why he would. You haven't got yer crystal any longer."

"How'd you know that?" Sarah asked him.

"I know lots that no one tells me. I have powers of my own you know." He looked down his nose at her suddenly feeling rather unappreciated.

"Hoggle," Sarah said forcing him out of his pout, "am I really the first mortal to defeat Jareth?" Tiberon had opened up her curiosity with his slip of the tongue. She always knew that a powerful thing had happened between them, but this was bigger than she imagined.

"Answer her," Drema insisted when her husband continued to sit at the table his mouth gapping open.

"As Tiberon said, none before and none since. After yer visit here the king sank into a dark mood. If you thought he had been difficult with you, the mortals that followed in yer footsteps never stood a chance against him. He didn't care for the Underground as well as he used ta. The rumors spreadin' among his subjects about his inability to stand up to a mortal child brought up things from his past and that started the Triumvirate questionin' him. He became truly cruel and nearly reclusive, leavin' the castle only to take away the children wished to him."

"He didn't seem all that sunken when he paid me his little visit," Sarah rebutted.

Hoggle was slow to reply, but when he did, Sarah instantly wished he hadn't. "That's because he was with you."

Sarah was only now coming to terms with what Jareth had felt for her. Hearing someone else tell her made her feel awful for what she had done to him twice now. "Why bother now? After so much time?" she wondered aloud.

"I was with him in his chambers when he realized he'd truly lost it. All of his power over you that is. The Triumvirate, that is to say the Cleric, had granted him enough power so that he was able to view you in his crystals, but that was all. If he tried to see anyone else connected to you, Christian, Toby, yer parents, nothin' happened. He thought you'd taken his magic. He knew what fey powers he had given you were stimulatin' yer mortal magic and I guess he figured you had gotten strong enough to do such things. He was furious, more so than usual even. Jareth went to the mountains to ask the Triumvirate's permission to face you again, a sort of all or nothin' match."

"Who or what is the Triumvirate and why do they have so much say over Jareth? He's supposed to be king isn't he?" Sarah raged. It wasn't bad enough she had hurt him, now she found out she had humiliated him too. Then something strange occurred to her, "He's been watching me. All these years? How?"

"One question at a time." Hoggle said calmly. It was out of character for the dwarf, normally when Sarah got anxious so did he. Her chest felt sunken. She would not like what she was about to hear. In some detail Hoggle explained the Triumvirate to Sarah, as well as the Underground as it had been and as it is now. He left out the unsolved controversy over the death of Corwyn in an attempt not to frighten her. Besides, if the king wanted to share his past with her it should be his decision. Hoggle respected that as much as he feared Jareth finding out he would have been the one to do it. He lied and told her the Triumvirate doubted Jareth for some cockamamie reason.

Afterward he sighed deeply, "Now as for yer other question. The king used crystals to check in on you over the years. He wanted to be sure you were well."

"When?"

"Every now and then," he saw no point in telling her just how often.

"Well, what if I was doing something personal?" Sarah thought about showering or using a ladies' room.

Hoggle blushed and turned his face away, "You were."

Something in the way he said it made it clear to her exactly what kind of moment it had been. "And that's why he wanted a piece of Christian so badly." It made sense now, the way Jareth had struck him until he could no longer stand and then once more for good measure. "I'm so embarrassed."

"Nothing to be embarrassed 'bout," Hoggle told her. "You were only livin' out your life. He knew the possibilities when he summoned yer image and he did it anyway. He was hurt and his requests of the crystal became less and less frequent until the day he thought you'd taken his magic." The dwarf reached for Sarah's hand. "I thought for sure he would destroy you, but the Triumvirate wouldn't allow it. I never thought that anything would actually happen between the two of you."

Drema's ears perked up. Until now she was playing with Sarah One on the floor, but this was starting to sound interesting. She slid closer to the two of them as their voices got lower and lower trying to pick up what she could of their whispered conversation.

"I didn't either. It wasn't what I had intended to happen and especially once I realized it was Jareth, but it felt so natural with him. He wanted me Hoggle, and that's more than I can say for Christian. As much as you might not want to hear it, I wanted him too."

Hoggle fluttered his eyelids, turned down the corners of his mouth, and feigned illness. He didn't want to hear such things. "Whatever it might be you think the two of you shared was shattered when you sent him back Sarah. If he was furious the last time you defeated him, he's consumed with rage now. The Triumvirate took away all his powers over all mortals and the Cleric could not convince them to allow Jareth to view you by crystal any longer. I don't think he would even want to in his current state." Sarah's face went long. "I warned you 'bout comin' back here Sarah. The king is not the same fey you knew two days ago, let alone fifteen years ago. You would serve yourself well to hide out iuntil we can figure out some way to get you home."

Tears poured from her eyes. Tears born of anger and regret. Sarah was upset with herself for her mistakes, upset with Hoggle for his honesty and upset with Jareth for his behavior. Hoggle thought about telling Sarah what he'd discovered back at the gates when she arrived, but those tears made him think twice.

"No mommy, Sarah Two do it!" The scream came from the floor.

"Sarah Two is busy honey, let her talk to daddy and I'll put you to sleep," Drema attempted to reason with the girl. Unfortunately she had inherited her father's stubbornness and only became more demanding.

"Sarah Twooooooooooo!" she wailed.

To Hoggle's surprise, he found that her outburst was making the older Sarah smile. Fists ground the tears from her eyes, "Would it be alright if I put her to bed?"

Hoggle nodded.

Sarah bent so that she could address Drema and her child, who were still on the floor, "Drema, if you don't mind I would be honored to put Sarah One to bed."

"Oh I wish you would," the dwarf woman replied her weary head sunken into her hands.

Sarah One beamed. Not only was everyone using her nicknames, which she considered a small victory over the adults, but now Sarah Two was going to put her to bed. She was on her feet in an instant and grabbed Sarah Two's hand, "Come on, I show you were I seep." Sarah found it charming the way the child spoke, dropping l's and other important letters and yet her intentions remained clear as a bell. In a moment the two Sarah's were inside the child's bedroom. There was a bed with pink fluffy dressings some pieces of furniture for holding toys and clothing and an overstuffed chair all surrounded by a sea of books and home stitched stuffed replicas of the Labyrinthine creatures Sarah had recognized from her previous adventure. There was a Ludo doll and a marionette of one of the Fire Gang members. Even a small mock Didymus on the back of a shaggy sheepdog. "You sit there," Sarah One pointed to a chair.

Obediently Sarah sat down and no sooner had her seat made contact with the cushion she shot sky high. Turning to inspect the cushion, she discovered a carved version of a nipper tucked in the crevasse where the seat and arm met. She set it aside with a wide grin. The child laughed wildly and then whispered, "That was suppose to be for daddy. It his night to read me to seep." She giggled again and disappeared into a second room where Sarah could hear water running. She assumed there was a ritual to bedtime here just as there was in her world. Glancing around the room, Sarah couldn't help but think how very similar the two worlds were. It made her believe even more that a home was built of love and not of wood or clay. It might have made her long for her youth, if her youth had been more like Sarah One's.

The child reemerged from the room in a pink cotton nightgown smelling of mint. "Tuck me in, pease!" She instructed Sarah. Helpless to the huge blue eyes that looked to her to fulfill their needs, she responded in kind.

"Snug enough?" she asked the little girl.

"Just right." Sarah One pointed to her bookshelf. "Story pease!"

"Which one?" There were enough books there to make a library.

"Any one!" There was more giggling.

"Ok," Sarah told her as she pulled down a copy of Snow White. There was an irony in that Sarah thought as she began to read, seated once again in the overstuffed chair. "Once upon a time,…"

Unbeknownst to the Sarahs, Hoggle, and Drema were just outside in the hall. Hoggle's arm held his wife, a tear in her eye. "I do love her," Drema whispered, "maybe even more than you said I would." Hoggle smiled as he felt his family grow.

Before Snow White had even bitten the apple, Sarah One was asleep. Sarah Two was feeling drowsy as well. She closed the book and left it on the night stand. She closed her eyes for a moment and breathed in the peaceful easiness that she'd come to value in just a few short hours. Her eyes fought through the dark to focus on this child that bore her name. Had ever a greater compliment been paid.

Without warning the blackness of the room lifted. Grabbing her head, Sarah fell back into the chair and let the vision take over. Assuming a fly on the wall perspective, she saw Hoggle sitting in the chair she sat in now. "Tell me about her again daddy!" his daughter cried.

"Not tonight sweetie, let's read Cinderella instead."

"But there aren't any Sarahs in the Cinder story. I want to hear about Sarahs!" Her tiny bottom lip puffed out.

"I think one of those wicked stepsisters names was Sarah. Oh yeah, now I remember she was the meanest of them all because she never let Cinderella get any sleep and that made her too tired to go to the ball."

Sarah rolled in her bed in hysterics. "You made that up daddy."

"Maybe I did and maybe I didn't, but either way you still have to got to sleep."

"It's not fair!" the wide eyed child shouted.

Hoggle smirked, "No, no it isn't fair, but that's the way it is." He tucked her in and kissed her head, then took his seat in the chair and began to read. His daughter was dreaming before the end of the first page. Tears filled his eyes. Hoggle focused on one Sarah before him and thought of another Sarah he had not seen in a very long time.

Drema came to his side and lay a tender hand on her husband's shoulder. "Dear come to bed. You can't keep staring at her like this. One Sarah will never take the place of another." As she watched the vision play out, she wonder if that was where the child got the idea to call herself Sarah One.

"I wish I had the other Sarah too." Perhaps her child's mind mixed up her father's words to create their nicknames. "You'd love her Drema, like she was another daughter."

"Come to bed."

"I can't. Don't you understand that I can't. Tonight might be the night that she calls for me." Hoggle was adamant.

"She hasn't called on you in years, Hoggle. What makes you think it will be tonight?" Drema was tired. It had been two weeks of nightmares, followed by two weeks of near sleeplessness for her and Sarah sensed it all. It was just about the time Aboveground that things were starting to take off in her career. Her contact with the mystical world was limited. Then Christian had moved in and Sarah had given up on even talking to Hoggle anymore.

"'Cause tonight I want her to."

His wife sat in his lap, "I know. Tonight you want her to call you more than last night. Tomorrow you'll want it more still."

"Tonight's different." When his wife looked at him, her eyes seemed to ask how. "Tonight I prayed she would call me."

He had never been a deeply religious dwarf. He gave his daily thanks and had been married in the presence of the Cleric, but there were no knee marks worn into the floor on his side of the bed. Drema was aware of just what he was saying when he was saying something so simple. "Then trust in your faith. You have asked the Supreme One and your answer will come in time, but it's not up to you to set that time." Tears flowed freely over his cheeks as his heart admitted she was right. Drema rose in silence and led her husband to bed.

Quick as it had come on the pictures left her mind and her eyes were back to trying to focus on the child wrapped inside the soft patchwork duvet, only they wouldn't focus, couldn't because they were suddenly as filled with tears as she had seen Hoggle's. Sarah stepped out into the hall and walked to the living room. Her body felt numb. Her face was wet. Drema ran to her and took her hand, "Oh my, are you not well dear?"

"I'm fine thank you," her voice shook.

The sound of her voice had captured Hoggle's attention and he set down the cup of tea in his hand. Almost childlike, Sarah ran to him, collapsing before him on the floor, her head in his lap. Shoulders shook with sobs as she repeated, "I'm sorry. I'm so very sorry."

A bit shocked by her display Hoggle asked, "For what?" as he stroked her hair.

"How many nights? How long did you sit in that room, looking at her, wishing you had us both, trying to make one Sarah into two." The sobs had stopped just long enough for her to utter the words and then returned with an even greater fervor than before.

"Your sight? I shoulda thought of that before I let you in there." Hoggle lifted her chin, "It was worth every night to hear you call my name again. Over the years of watchin' you grow, bein' yer confidant, I grew to love you like you were my own child. I'd give as much for you as I would my own Sarah."

"I was selfish and stupid. I don't deserve your friendship, your love, or the hospitality your family has shown me."

This time it was Drema who ran to her side. "Now listen to me. You were a child and children often make mistakes. Your lesson has been learned. I suggest you learn this lesson as well, here in the Underground all things live off of one another. A piece of each of us comes from another and wherever we go, whatever we touch, we leave behind our essence."

"What does that mean?" Sarah sniffed back the tears and tried to digest what the dwarf woman was saying.

"It means that if you did not give your friendship, love, and hospitality then none would be returned to you. You can guarantee that as long as you remain in this world, you will get what you deserve when the Supreme One believes you are ready to receive it." A flick of her wrist and a third cup of tea joined the two already on the serving tray. Drema offered it to Sarah who accepted it readily and drank some of it down. "It is not the forgiveness of my husband that you seek child, it is your own soul which you cannot stop blaming. Think on that as you dream and tomorrow your way will seem all the more obvious."

Hoggle grumbled in his usual way and that small act alone made Sarah feel better, "Ah, what she's tryin' to say is what's said is said."

Finally she understood the very powerful meaning of the hackneyed expression. "If you don't mind, I'd like to get some rest."

"Of course you would darling. Come now," Drema helped her to her feet, "let me show you to your room."

The weary traveler hadn't gone more than two steps before turning and flinging herself into Hoggle's arms. "I love you," she told him. "I always have but made myself feel too foolish to say it." He patted her back a few times and smiled. She knew he felt the same way, only opening his mouth would have opened the floodgates in his eyes as well. She ran back to Drema who folded an arm about her shoulder and let the woman guide her to the bedroom.

With one last gulp, Hoggle emptied his tea cup and stared out the window into the dark night. He could have sworn he heard an owl screeching in the night. "Not as long as I still got my wits in my head and breath in my body Jareth. I'll never let you hurt my Sarah again," he whispered into the blackness.


	11. Chapter 11

**CHAPTER ELEVEN - LEAVING BEHIND HER ESSENCE**

Exhaustion had put her to sleep quickly and kept her there deeply until the sound of a family gathering around a breakfast table caused Sarah to yawn, stretch and rub at her eyes. Nose first, she arrived in the kitchen wearing a cotton night shirt Drema had lent her. "What is that divine smell?" she asked as she entered placing a kiss on Hoggle's head and then on Sarah One's.

"Frog bacon and robin's eggs," the baby grinned.

Sarah Two winced a little, but then reconsidered, remembering how much she had enjoyed dinner the night before, perhaps she shouldn't be so provincial. Before taking a seat at the table Sarah leaned over Drema's shoulder and kissed the woman's cheek. Drema smiled.

"Where in the he..." Hoggle began before noticing his daughter's intense eyes on him, "world did we get robin's eggs?"

"Strangest thing, I found a nest of them right outside the back door this morning," his wife told him.

"Strange indeed," Hoggle concurred eyeing Sarah Two in a way that made her edgy.

"What's so strange about finding a bird's nest in the woods?" Sarah asked as she poured some milk into a sippy cup for Sarah One and then into a glass for herself.

No one responded to her query, instead the two adults looked at each other speaking a silent language that the Sarahs were unable to interpret. A night's rest had vanquished more than the stresses of the previous day. It had made Hoggle forget there was more yet to tell the mortal. Drema's eyes narrowed on him forcing a heavy sigh to rush from his lungs. "It's strange because no one's heard a bird in this sector in over five years now."

"Five years," Sarah Two repeated.

"After breakfast, I'll take you to see the full sector. I'll explain things along the way," he told her nodding toward the baby indicating that it was more than he wanted to discuss in front of his child.

She took the cue immediately and relegated herself to slicing bread to toast for their meal. Her stomach was queasy with anticipation and the idea of frog bacon wasn't settling it any. Together she and Drema presented the meal. Again, Hoggle bowed his head and gave his thanks before the family began to eat. Though she passed on the bacon, Sarah Two found that robin's eggs were very tasty, especially when they were on top of a slice of fresh toast smeared with a little of what she hoped was butter.

Aboveground breakfast was never like this. When she sat to eat breakfast at all, it was a bowl of cereal or a cup of tea. Most of the time Sarah would grab one of three varieties of breakfast bars from on top of the fridge on her frenzied way out the door. Underground they sat, they talked, they were thankful for their meal and for the company to share it. At fifteen the Underground had seemed barbaric, but now, Sarah thought just the opposite. Though the thought of staying in the Underground had terrified her once, at this moment she felt like she could stay forever.

Shaken out of her daydream by the repeated sound of her name being called, Sarah dropped her fork to her plate and gasped, "I'm sorry," she said shaking her head, "I was just thinking."

"'Bout what dear?" Drema asked

With a wide grin, Sarah replied, "How happy I am to be here."

Side by side Hoggle and Sarah left the stump he called home and set out to roam the Southeastern sector of the Underground. Once clear of the stump, Sarah returned to her normal size. The transformation gave her quite a start. She had been Hoggle's size for nearly a full day now and it had begun to feel comfortable on her although, she felt more secure being larger when she was outside the protective walls of the dwarf's home. They paused by the side of the stump and Hoggle picked up an axe. "Is that necessary?" Sarah asked him.

"You haven't been in these woods. If the overgrowth doesn't get you, then something hidin' in it might!" He was half joking. There wasn't anything terribly dangerous lurking in the forest, but the overgrowth was wild and often required chopping your way through. Just another side effect of Jareth's failure to properly look over his lands. Sarah's eyes grew dark with worry. Hoggle laughed in an effort to try and ease her, then edged her forward onto a narrow path.

Birds could be heard above them, more than one variety by the sounds they made. Sarah looked high into the canopy at a dozen or more winged wonders flapping then gliding, landing then flying again. She tapped the dwarf at her side on his shoulder. When she had his attention she pointed up. He too, took notice of what was happening. His feet ceased any forward movement. Sarah looked at him, her arms crossed before her chest, "What was it you needed to tell me?"

"There's no easy way to explain this Sarah. I already told you that Jareth's dark mood has kept him from carin' for the Underground in the manner he had before. Drema already told you that fey are connected to their surroundin's." Part of him hoped she'd put the whole thing together herself and spare him the agony of choking over his own words. "Jareth is connected to the Underground. He is its king." Even though she found the explanation elementary, Sarah listened intently. Hoggle paced and fumbled with his hands as he went on. "If his soul is happy the Underground thrives. Jareth's soul has rarely been truly happy and so the Underground has always been a fairly decent kingdom, except for the damn fairies and chickens that run all over the place. There were lands that seemed to absorb more of Jareth's anger, but they were normally in and immediately around the Labyrinth, as if the king focused his negative energy there by command. Otherwise the outer sectors were well kept and pretty luxurious by Underground standards."

"The four sectors each have a Representative. His powers are limited, as is his magic and while part of each Representative is as connected to their respective sector as Jareth is to his kingdom, it's not enough to override the king's doldrums. Normally, it's just enough to add icin' to the cake and make what is a beautiful land even more so. Each sector is geographically different and therefore the king's mood has effected each sector as diversely. Here we've had terrible overgrowth, birds and flowers have practically disappeared. In other sectors, heat spells or frosts have their way with the land. Where water once flowed in quantities that would embarrass those Aboveground, there was drought and the sun shines only at the king's command."

Sarah looked around. The sun was shining brightly today, only a few clouds dared to splotch the otherwise flawless blue sky. Singing birds were undeniable as they harmonized in the tree tops. "Doesn't seem all that desolate to me," she said raising one eyebrow to display her confusion.

Hoggle began walking deeper into the wood, the mortal following him closely, not wishing to be alone in a strange land. He was jabbering on about how today was so much different from the way things normally were and Sarah's attention strayed. Off to the right of their path was a beautiful meadow. It stretched on as far as she could see and seemed to burst with colorful buds the shades of which no word delicate enough had been invented to describe. "I'll be bogged!" Hoggle cried when he noticed what had stolen her ear by catching her eye.

"I thought you said there weren't any flo…"

"There weren't Sarah. None of this was here yesterday mornin'."

Not meaning to, she contradicted him. "Flowers don't bloom like that over night!" Remembering where she was and that she was far less familiar with this world than her companion, Sarah uncomfortably cleared her throat and said, "What do you suppose made them decide to bloom now?"

"I don't think they had much to say about it," he told her with a smile.

Taking it for a joke, Sarah laughed. Then kneeling, she pulled a few of the buds closest to her, "We'll take these back for Drema."

Hoggle nodded. That was a fine idea. It had been a long time since he had brought her flowers home from one of his walks. On they went, deeper into the wood. The dwarf had not yet encountered any overgrowth that would require him to swing his ax which was odd. Just the other day he had avoided this same path because it looked nearly impassable. For a moment he lost himself in trying to decide if he had really seen what he had thought he saw. A giant butterfly came toward him and landed on the end of his nose making him grumble. As he went to swat it, Sarah reached down lifting it out of harm's way. "Oh Hoggle don't," she chastised. "You're so beautiful," Sarah told the butterfly which had perched on her finger. Black trimmed wings held in spots of orange and red while two tiny black eyes fluttered at their captor. Feelers bent to run along Sarah's hand forcing her to giggle. The butterfly smiled stretching out a wing to run along Sarah's chin. Then as quickly as it had come, the winged insect departed making erratic circles in the atmosphere.

"No wonder you live here," she told the dwarf. Extending her arms and gazing skyward Sarah made huge circles with her whole body. She was coming alive from the inside out. She could feel it. A dynamic warmth filled her making her feel satisfied for the first time in ages. Everything was new and wondrous even though she had seen most of these things before in the Aboveground, it was bigger, brighter, bolder than she recalled.

"It's happenin'," Hoggle said, perhaps a bit more loudly than he intended.

"What's happening?"

"You suddenly feel alive don't you? Not just energized, but invincible, immortal?" Sarah sat on the ground before him watching him dole out the words as if they were difficult to say, as if by saying them he was condemning her.

"I suppose I do, but it's a good feeling," Sarah reassured. "In fact, I was just thinking how I haven't been this happy in far too long." He stayed silent, but focused on her with more concentration than she cared for. "What is it Hoggle? Is it my mortal magic? If I stay too long it'll disappear, right? You're worried that I'll be upset if I lose it?" His head wagged side to side. "Then what is it?" Sarah demanded.

"It's you."

"Me? What about me?"

"Everythin'. Jareth gave you fey magic. He gave you a part of his soul. He made you part of the Underground." Hoggle paused between each statement gauging Sarah's reactions and taking a breath to help him go on. "Now that you're here, the land wants to please you, for when you are pleased, the land will thrive. You're bringin' life back to the Underground Sarah."

"I don't understand," Sarah whispered suddenly very aware of herself. Noticing that the warmth she felt was less like the sun on her skin and more like a fire from inside. She did feel invincible. She did feel immortal. "Why me? If the Representatives weren't powerful enough, why me?"

"Their souls are their own. Yours is part of Jareth. Part of the king, the only one with enough power to regenerate these lands. It's a gift Sarah. The inhabitants of these lands will adore you for sharin' it with them." His words were happy, but his tone sad.

"But?"

"But since Jareth's emotions are focused on the castle and Labyrinth, and get weaker in the outstretches of the kingdom, yours are strong here and will work their way toward the Labyrinth and eventually the castle. It will be only a matter of time before Jareth becomes aware that the Underground has begun to heal. The king is not a stupid fey and it will occur to him quickly just why that is. When it does, he will seek you out and most likely will not be pleased that you have tampered with his kingdom."

"Tampered? I haven't done anything. I don't even know spells. How can he fault me for things I haven't even done?" No sooner had she heard what she said it dawned on her that he had faulted her before for far less.

Hoggle took her hand. "Your magic is stronger than a spell. Your magic comes from the heart. It is the most powerful of all magics."

From some brush behind them Tiberon came charging forth, a cluster of pixies surrounding him. He waved them off. "Does my keen fey hearing deceive me or have I found the mortal I wish to thank?"

Agitated Hoggle stood up and shook a finger at the Representative. "You ought not listen in on other people when they're havin' a private conversation."

"There, there little one," he told the dwarf. Hoggle hated being spoken to like he were some young sprite or gnome. "I mean the mortal no harm. As you know, that which displeases the king brings me much pleasure indeed. And besides, look about you! The Southeast is in its glory. It has been a century since my sector was this beautiful and alive. Haven't you heard the birds? Every mythical in this wood is buzzing with news of the miraculous improvement. I expect by afternoon we'll be overrun with mythicals from other sectors who are tired of their own deplorable conditions."

Tiberon closed in on Sarah resting his hands on her hips, "And you," he purred. She didn't like the way he did that. He dressed like Jareth, but he was no Goblin King. He was thicker and meatier making him seem more threatening. Those eyes of his were beautiful aesthetically, but they were cold. She felt him look through her and diverted her eyes. "I have you to thank for all of it!" His thick arms forced her off the ground and swung her in the air overhead. Sarah's heart pounded against her chest as if it wanted free of her rib cage as much as she wanted free of Tiberon's grasp. When once more her feet touched the ground, he had moved them to the edge of the path putting a bit of distance between them and the dwarf, who remained on the far side of the trail where he'd stopped when the fey frightened them with his hasty approach. Without warning, Tiberon brought his mouth frightfully close to Sarah's own. A smile wove across his lips just before he lowered his head to kiss her, hard. Clenching her jaws and binding her lips together she tried to show him how unwelcome his advances were. However, Tiberon was not quick to admit defeat. After several seconds of attempting to elicit a more appreciative response he backed away and bowed before her. "I had not believed in the legend, Lady Sarah of the Aboveground, but today you have made me eat my words." He took her hand and kissed the back of it, flicking his tongue between his lips like a snake. "And my, but I do so love the taste of them."

A twirling ax took root in the ground millimeters from Tiberon's bent knee on his right side causing Sarah to stumble back, just off the path, against a tree trunk. "Jareth will have your head if you have one more go at his mortal," Hoggle growled.

The Representative leaned into him, "And as I said, that which displeases the king brings me much pleasure." Bored with this confrontation, Tiberon stood, bowed low and took his leave.

"Hoggle," Sarah called from the other side of the path.

At her call he ran to her, "Are you alright?"

"No! No I am not alright!" She was pacing. "What do you mean throwing an axe at me like that?"

"I can control my own weapon. I never got nowheres near you."

"Well from where I stood it didn't feel that way." Sarah was obviously shaken by the whole ordeal.

"I'm sorry if I frightened you, but Tiberon was way out of line," the dwarf's hands were on his hips and his foot stomped into the dirt.

"Yes, he was, but in my world, we don't just go throwing axes at every jerk who gets out of line. He'll probably run straight to Jareth and tell him I'm here." Sarah trembled at the thought. She was not ready to face the Goblin King, not yet.

"He'll do no such thing. Tiberon is an ass but he is not a fool. It would serve no purpose to reveal you to the king unless he had you for his own."

Though crass, his meaning was clear. Sarah shook again. "Well that ain't gonna happen."

"Just to be sure," Hoggle paused and then with all his might shouted, "Oh that's rich! Atofina and the Representative of the Northeast sector. I wouldn't have believed it if it hadn't been whispered into my own ear." He accompanied his noise with a few knee slaps and exaggerated gestures.

As if summoned, the white rabbit appeared before the dwarf. "Knew you couldn't resist a good rumor." Hoggle snorted at him.

The Easter Bunny raised a shoulder to him. "Kill joy," he spat.

"Listen, I've got more important business with you than droppin's from the grapevine." Long ears perked attentive to what was being said, "Tiberon means to court, if you can call it that, the mortal. I want you to go back to the Southwest and tell Gandor his intentions. Gandor will never allow it to happen. He has always believed that Sarah's return would be good for Jareth and while I don't know yet whether or not I agree, I know that he is fey enough to keep Tiberon in line and honest enough to let her," Hoggle indicated Sarah, "choose her own time to reveal herself."

"So it is you," the rabbit addressed Sarah. "You are the Legend."

"Please just call me Sarah."

He hopped to her and stared up her long body to a face that seemed miles away. One of his ears twitched, beckoning her closer. She obliged. "My but you are beautiful," he said. "I can see how it is that you weakened the king's heart, although mine seems to beat stronger as I stand before you. I am the Easter Bunny, Sarah. Your wishes are my commands. I shall report back to Gandor and he will make certain that Tiberon troubles you as little as possible from this point forward."

"Thank you," Sarah smiled down at the soft white creature. Her hand reached for his coat, "may I?" He nodded and she stroked is velvet fur. "You are real," she proclaimed mesmerized.

"Funny. I was just thinking the same thing. The pleasure to serve you has been mine." With this he was gone. No doubt transporting himself to Gandor's home in order to get started on his mission.

It was growing late in the morning and Hoggle would be expected to make an appearance at the Labyrinth gates. Once more grabbing her hand, Hoggle lead Sarah back to his home, a great understanding between them made the silence more comfortable.

Arulan came into the King's chamber with his breakfast on a wooden serving tray. He sat up in bed when he heard her enter and smoothed his hair from his face. The elf seemed especially cheerful this morning and Jareth despised it. "Good morning," she sang. This morning, as every one before it, Arulan had risen before the sun and gone for a run through the forest of the Southeast sector. The air was sweet there, especially so today, she had thought.

Jareth yawned. "Is it?"

"You mustn't allow yourself to continue on this way. You've barely been out of that bed these last few days. The goblins are wrecking havoc on the city and the castle." She set the tray across his lap.

"What is this?" the king asked, plucking a daisy from a vase on the tray with just his thumb and forefinger, glad his gloves were on so he didn't have to come in contact with the thing.

"It's a daisy your highness. I found it on my run this morning." Apparently it had not pleased him as much as she thought it would.

"Eew," he moaned, "well take it outside and kill it." He shook it at her until she came to take it from his grip. "And Arulan, if there are more of these…things, kill them too. Have Hoople squirt them with that contraption of his."

"The atomizer?" Arulan asked. Hoggle's atomizer was filled with a powerful poison that was used for killing a more troubling fairy breed. Covering a plant with such a chemical would have quite a detrimental effect on the ecology.

"Yes," the king smiled, "the atomizer." It was the first he had smiled since his return and his servant was less than pleased by the topic that brought it about. Arulan left the king.

Jareth finished his breakfast and drank his tea. Planing to kill the daisies had really inspired him. He rose from his bed, bathed and dressed. While he went about doing up his hair he caught himself hoping some foolish mortal would wish away a child today. He was up for a good challenge. Perhaps it would be just the catalyst he would need to pull himself out of the mood the Triumvirate had put him in. The Triumvirate, "Damn!" Jareth raged as he realized that a mortal would be no fun if he couldn't control it. "Ah, but the Labyrinth is still mine to do with as I see fit," a spark returning to his eyes. "If I can convince them to come and play my little game, we'll play by my rules!" Laughter filled the room halting on a dime when the king caught sight of his reflection in the mirror. He sneered, "Oh Jareth, you do have a lovely smile."

Dressed in his finest, the king descended the stairs to the throne room. A few dozen goblins were milling about, tapping his mead and aggravating the chickens. High in the air, a riding crop was raised and with all the authority of a god, it came smacking down on the arm of the king's throne. "Enough!" he shouted. Silence lay heavy in the room. Jareth smiled again, enjoying any little thing that made his body surge with feelings of power or control. All eyes turned to their king. He was strutting around examining each goblin, appreciative of the ones who dared to return his look. Kicking or tossing the others out of his way. "Cowards," he muttered.

By the time he'd finished making his serpentine through the motley crew assembled in the room only 17 remained. He snatched up the smallest one and tossed him out the window. "Today I only like even numbers," he proclaimed. "Divide yourselves into four groups," Jareth instructed. The goblins began shuffling around, bumping into one another, arguing, fighting. The King snapped the crop against his gloved hand before roughly shoving them left and right forming three groups of four before him. Then he announced to the remaining four who were scattered about the room, "Everyone not already in a group, stand here." Eight feet could be heard dashing to the spot the riding crop pointed to. "Very nice," Jareth told them. "Now then, I have a job for you."

"We must be going to empty an orphanage," one goblin said.

"A school yard," offered a second.

"This does not involve children," Jareth told them. "This is far more important." A hush fell over the creatures in his presence as their eyes grew wide in anticipation. "The Triumvirate has had far too much to say about the goings on in the Underground," the king began, "and I wish to take back more control over my kingdom." He was pacing back and forth in front of them as he spoke, their heads turning and following him as he did so. "Each group of you will be assigned to spy in one of the four sectors that surround us. I want to know every detail of their miserable existence. The Representatives, I want to know what their doing and see if you can get some idea of what they think of their king. By the time I have my way with this place, they'll all be on their knees!" The teams of goblins before him knelt. "Get up you idiots!" Jareth shouted. He assigned them their sectors and sent them on their way, then slung himself across his throne, "On their knees," he muttered, "begging for mercy."

It was nearly dinner when Hoggle returned home. "Daddy," Sarah One cried flinging herself into his arms. Drema turned in time to see him swing her through the air. He hadn't felt this young in years. Drema looked so contented, as if a great worry had some how been lifted from her shoulders. She so loved having the mortal Sarah in her home. It was a welcome change to have someone able to lift a finger and pitch in. Sarah One was so busy creating messes, Drema could never get her to clean one up. Hoggle usually got home so late, he was useless, but now that Sarah had arrived in the Underground, his wife noticed him knocking off earlier and staying in after dinner.

Drying her hands on her apron, Drema went to greet her husband. Sarah took them all in, the three dwarves that stood together in as close to a live Norman Rockwell painting as anything she'd ever seen, wishing she had a camera. A pocket sized model appeared in her hand. It had been one of the things she shoved into the series of small pockets on her bag last minute. Quickly she snapped a shot of her extended family and shoved the thing in her pocket making a mental note to wish more carefully in the future.

The oven timer and front door competed for attention as dinner announced it's completion and an uninvited guest announced their arrival. Hoggle told Drema to hide Sarah. "Just a minute….I'm comin'…I'm comin'," he called out until he saw his wife shove the mortal in the cleaning cupboard just outside of the kitchen, then he opened the door. "What do you want?" he snapped before looking to see who it was.

"Hoggle my friend, is that anyway to speak to a fey who has come to do you a favor?" Gandor smiled down at the dwarf. This Representative was nothing like Tiberon. He was older and more gentle looking. He had a long beard and a thick mustache all made of pure white hair that appeared as though his sector's snow traveled with him always. He was heavier than Tiberon, but in a way that seemed more friendly than slobbish.

"I'm terribly sorry," Hoggle bowed.

"No harm." Gandor waived a hand and shrunk himself, then invited himself in.

Sarah One scuttled up the length of him and tugged on his beard, "Guess what?" she chattered happily.

"What?" he asked rubbing his chin.

"I gots another Sarah."

"You do?" he feigned ignorance.

"I show you," she whispered her eyes growing large like saucers. Gandor set her on the ground and she drug him by the hem of his robe over to the cupboard. "Open it."

Slowly the Representative did as she commanded. Inside Sarah Two was nestled between two mops. "You must be the famed Lady Sarah of the Aboveground."

"One in the same," she said smiling nervously at the stranger.

"Two," little Sarah corrected.

Sarah came forward out of the cupboard. "It is a pleasure to meet you Gandor." She thought he looked very grandfatherly and she appreciated that, but curtsied nonetheless out of respect. "I hope we haven't inconvenienced you by asking for your help."

"Not at all. I'm happy to help keep Tiberon at bay. I've said for years that Jareth would be far better off with you by his side." Gandor smiled at her and touched her arm. By his side? Had Sarah heard him correctly. No matter. He was going to take care of Tiberon. Maybe afterward she would explain that there would be no 'by his side'. "There is one thing I would ask, in exchange for my help."

"What's that?" Hoggle asked protectively coming between the two of them.

"I wonder if Sarah would join me for dinner in my kingdom. It's blasted cold over there you know and it's supposed to be the sunny season. I was hoping a visit from the legend might spruce things up a bit." He looked almost embarrassed to ask, but you could tell that he was relying on the generosity she was rumored to have.

"We'd be delighted," Hoggle replied. "Of course I'd have to go as her chaperone."

"I wouldn't have it any other way." Gandor agreed. "Shall we?" He extended his elbow to Sarah and his hand to Hoggle. "Lady Drema, would you care to join us?"

"No thank you," she declined, "Just be sure and have them home at a reasonable hour."

"As you wish," Gandor promised and they were gone.

Sarah's eyes opened, but her chin was still tucked to her chest. She didn't think she'd ever get used to transporting. She shrieked as she looked at the floor, clear as water, it convinced her she was about to go under. "Don't worry," Gandor told her. "I live in an ice castle, the floor always looks this way. Come with me, I'll show you to the dining room." His castle was lovely, something straight out of a fairytale. Even the furniture carved from ice. Yet not a puddle on the floor or a piece of melted furniture. "It's never supposed to really get cold Underground. And yet, we do keep a sector that resembles your mortal winters. It's about 180 golas here in the sunny season and 120 golas in the cloudy season."

"Golas are like degrees Sarah. One degree is about three golas," Hoggle explained. "Our sunny season is yer spring and summer, cloudy season, yer fall and winter." Hoggle translated.

"I take for granted that you know our ways well Sarah, I apologize for not better explaining myself to you. As I said, it is typically quite comfortable here, but this season it's freezing. Some of my creatures are dying off of dehydration because all the water sources have failed to thaw." He guided Sarah on a tour of the castle before the trio gathered in the dining hall for dinner. Gandor pulled a braided cord which rung a lovely brass bell. Three servants came dashing into the hall and set places. As they dashed out three more dashed in carrying covered silver trays. Once the guests were seated, the domed lids were removed. There were parsleyed potatoes, carrots, some sort of squash and on the largest tray a roast rack of lamb. Sarah's mouth began to water. "Sit my friends, tonight my rewards are your rewards."

Sarah looked about in wide eyed wonder. An ice castle as detailed as any mortal doll house she had ever seen. An ice dining table and chairs, yet when she took her seat, there was no moisture, no chill. It was remarkable, as if the entire place had been cut from glass.

"Rewards?" Hoggle asked, breaking Sarah's concentration.

"Oh my yes, it was all Tiberon could do when I agreed not to ice over his forest for what he tried with the mortal today." Gandor took great pride in just how intimidating his aged appearance allowed him to be at times.

"You didn't?" Sarah asked.

"And yet I did," he chuckled as he admitted to it. "Oh, you should have seen him. I burst in through his front door and went on about how my white rabbit had seen it all. He never even questioned me. Then I told him that if he did anything more to alarm the mortal, I would cast a frost over all she had done for his lands. Not to mention rat him out to the king who would destroy whatever remained, including him." Gandor began filling his plate and gestured to his friends to do the same. "I even leaned over him and the closer I got the further he bent away. Could have turned him into a pretzel if I would have felt like it." His laughter was contagious. Soon all three of them were enjoying a good laugh at Tiberon's expense. "And you Sarah, how are you enjoying the Underground?"

"Very well thank you," she said swallowing a mouthful of potato.

"Word of what you were able to do for the Southeast spread quickly, but I don't want you to worry. Only the most trusted of us know it is you at the source of the Underground's healing, my sword and staff to protect you otherwise." He cut another slice of lamb for himself. "Perhaps after dinner we could visit the pond."

"Certainly," Sarah nodded with great interest. She always liked water, just sitting beside it watching the sky reflecting in the smooth calm surface. She thought of the park where she had practiced her play as she continued to eat, almost mechanically while lost in her reverie. "If you don't mind my saying this is delicious."

"Thank you, I'll pass that along to the chefs." Gandor clapped his hands twice and six stout penguins came running out of the kitchen and clamored around the girl.

"Oh my," Sarah cried excitedly, "they're adorable. Thank you all for the delicious meal."

"You're welcome milady," the first said.

"She likes it," piped up another.

"Never mind that, she thinks we're adorable," said a third as he straightened his tie.

"You never mind, look at how beautiful she is." Sarah blushed.

"Off with you scamps," Gandor waved them back to their posts. "They don't see many pretty women I'm ashamed to say. You'll have to forgive them."

"Nonsense," Sarah smiled. "What's to forgive about being told you're beautiful? I should like to keep one of them by my side for bad hair days." Hoggle and Gandor looked at each other and burst into laughter.

"I hate say, but we need to figure out what we're going to do about Sarah," Hoggle reminded them.

"What about her?" Gandor asked.

"We've got to figure out a way to get her home before Jareth realizes that she's here."

The Representative shook his head, "It can't be done." He said it so nonchalantly as he was washing down his supper with his wine.

"But there must be some way," Sarah pleaded.

"I wish there were, but do you have the magic to produce crystals?" Sarah shook her head. "Are you able to transport on your own?" She indicated no once more. "Then I'm afraid milady, you are trapped in the Underground."

"Does no one have the magic to send her home but Jareth?" Hoggle begged.

"The Triumvirate."

"Then we shall go to them," Sarah said with a bit of renewed confidence until she noticed Hoggle's hanging head. "What's wrong?"

"Only Jareth can present to the Triumvirate," Hoggle told her.

"Then it's decided," she tried to sound brave, but her voice faltered and betrayed her. "Tomorrow at sunrise I will leave with you for the Labyrinth gates Hoggle, and I shall find Jareth and ask him to send me home himself."

"He'll just as soon kill you as look at you," Hoggle said. "I won't let you do it."

"I don't see where you have any choice. I must face him sooner or later." Sarah finished her goblet, "Might as well just rip the band aid off right?"

Gandor looked queerly at her, "You mortals have very strange expressions." Another mortal expression came to her mind, one about a pot and a kettle. "I think the king would have more sense than that. Not to mention, with his powers over mortals usurped, how harmful can he be? Enough seriousness," the Representative rose, "Let us go to the pond."

Outside it had gotten a bit brighter even though it was coming up on evening. "I think it's a few golas warmer, don't you?" Hoggle asked.

"Indeed I do," Gandor concurred as he removed his outermost robe. "Come follow me."

The trio walked a ways from the castle. Sarah could see elves busily scampering about outside of what she could have sworn was a factory. "What is that?"

"Yeah, the old man gets pretty busy this time of year. Don't know why he gets the top seat. After all he just checks the bloody list and makes the deliveries. It's the poor elves that work their fingers to the bone." Sarah was shocked by both Hoggle's words and the tone in which they had been said.

"You don't mean to tell me that's Santa's workshop," Sarah said in disbelief. Instantly she was four again. The magic of the mysterious man in the plush, red suit, chauffeured by eight flying reindeer to deliver toys to all good children, this was surreal. It almost seemed she had found herself strolling through her childhood fantasies.

Gandor looked at her surprised, "What, don't you believe that if a mortal can be a Legend Underground, an immortal can be a legend Aboveground? Really Sarah, I always thought of you as a believer?"

"From this day forward, I shall be," she muttered through slack jaws.

There were more penguins and a few minor age elves skating on the pond when they arrived. "How can they do that when it's so warm out here?"

"Magic," Hoggle told Sarah. "Gandor's lands are primarily ice, but the climate is suitable so that any of the Underground's creatures could easily survive here if they were to visit. Likewise, the water supply should never completely freeze so that the animals have a place to drink constantly.

Sarah moved slowly toward the pond and knelt at the water's edge. The ice was so clear it was like a mirror. Her hand moved to touch her reflection. The ice felt cool to her touch, but it did not chill her as it should have. She slipped her shoes off and placed her feet on the slick surface. Before long she was skating around on the ice dancing to music that played only in her head. The elves and penguins all stopped to watch her. Three years of lessons came rushing back to her as she arched her back, extended her arms and spun in tight circles . Spoiling her fun, the ice began to crack beneath her feet and she took her leave of the pond as quickly as possible.

Gandor transported to her side reaching for her to offer the frightened child comfort, "Would you have a look at that?"

Half the pond remained frozen over and the other half was completely melted. Several species were coming from hills and valleys all around to drink the fresh flowing water. Fish jumped up to break the surface of the pond. "Just from my skating around?" the woman asked him. Such a concept quickly escaped her range of rational thought.

"Indeed, and look there," he pointed to some near by plants where frost was dripping off and forming puddles in the snow. "I bet by morning those greens are thawed enough for these little guys to fill their bellies, all thanks to you." He tapped the end of her nose with his finger. "I can never repay you, but to tell you, should you ever need me..."

"I'll call," Sarah finished his sentence. She knew the drill. It filled her with a kind of pride. In her heart something changed. Her connection with the Underground deepened, delving beyond being in a wondrous place, she was happy it was becoming an extension of her spirit, as tangible as her own arm. She needed this place as much as it needed her. Sarah felt like she was where she belonged. High up in the hills ice damned rivers began to trickle water and the banks came alive with growth and transformation.

They were transported back home shortly thereafter. Hoggle told Drema what Gandor had done to Tiberon while Sarah Two told Sarah One about the talking penguins and the way she made the ice melt. Then they made a fire and had a cup of tea while they played checkers until Sarah One started to yawn. "Let me," Sarah said as she stood to take the child to her room. It was important to her since she didn't know if she would see her namesake again. The baby was tucked into bed and Sarah had chosen Where the Wild Things Are as this evening's story. It had been one of her favorites as a child. She sat on the edge of the child's bed not wishing to see anything else unpleasant.

"You're gonna go, ain't ya," Sarah One said her sleepy eyes barely open.

"Eventually I must," she told the tiny girl.

Refusing to allow her to leave, she grabbed Sarah Two around her neck and held to her for dear life. "Don't go Sarah Two. I be good if you stay. I promise. I even gift you my bed." Tears poured over the child's face and Sarah felt her heart breaking.

"Sarah, sweetie, haven't you ever said goodbye to anyone before." She shook her head, temporarily distracted enough to stop crying. "Who?"

"Nanaw and Pappy," Sarah assumed they were grandparents, probably Drema's parents since Hoggle never mentioned his.

"And what happened after they left," she only hoped there hadn't been any accidents.

"I cwied for thwee days," Sarah One started to bawl for the second time.

Sarah Two had not thought about that possibility. She moved to wipe away her tiny tears, "But they came back didn't hey."

"Not for a reary wong time!" She stomped her foot and crossed her arms. Oh, she was Hoggle's child alright! "Fo'ever!"

"Well, we've got forever," Sarah Two lied. Sarah One had forever, Sarah Two wasn't even sure about tomorrow. "And I promise you that I will always keep you with me in my heart." She pinched the baby dwarf's nose between her middle and fore fingers, "And in my pocket." Quickly Sarah shoved the empty fist into the pocket of the house dress she'd borrowed from Drema.

Sarah One laughed in that innocent, untainted way that only a child can as she fell back on her bed. Sarah Two read her the story and then leaned in to kiss her goodbye and goodnight. "I love you," she whispered by the child's ear and then jerked her head away before the tears could wake the little girl by plopping onto her skin.

She was almost out the door when she heard the tiny sound fight it's way out from under the duvet, "I love you too." Well how do you like that? She could pronounce her l's after all.

In the living room Drema wiped at her eyes with a hanky, "Oh dear, Hoggle told me what you want to do and I won't allow it. I just won't. Wait another day, another week."

'Saying goodbye to adults was supposed to be easier,' Sarah thought. "Drema, I appreciate your concern, but I've made up my mind. I can't just stay here and wait for Jareth to find me. He'll find you with me and God only knows what he'll do if he thinks Hoggle has betrayed him. I won't put Sarah One through that. I won't put any of you through that. Tomorrow at sunrise I will leave for the Labyrinth."

"But we could,..."

Hoggle moved to quiet his wife. "She's right Drema. If Jareth found her here I don't doubt that he would be furious. It's best we let her go, at least inside the Labyrinth I can still sorta keep an eye on her. Ludo will be there, Sir Didymus, Ambrosius, why she's even won old Gandor over and that damned rabbit." Hoggle smiled at Sarah. "She's powerful in a way Jareth could never be and I think she's gonna be alright." He believed what he said.

"Now let's not ruin our night. I'll put on another pot for tea and join you by the fire in a minute." Sarah went to the kitchen where her tears could flow freely. 'Get hold of yourself,' she thought. 'You can't let them see you like this.' Suddenly she felt a laugh rolling up her throat and into her closed mouth. Feigning a cough, Sarah managed to stifle the laughter. She came here feeling like she was finally free, no more roles, no more acting, but she would never be truly free of the stage. Once the water boiled, she'd pour tea and walk, head high, into an audience that would accept nothing less than happiness from her, not without questioning her. But that was only Act One. Tomorrow she would have to act brave, braver than anyone or anything had forced her to act before. Tomorrow she was going back to the Labyrinth.


	12. Chapter 12

**CHAPTER TWELVE - THROUGH THE LABYRINTH GATES**

Sunrise broke over the small stump in the forest. Everyone inside, shy the youngest, was already well since up and about, anticipating its arrival. Breakfast was had, the dishes cleaned. Sarah's bag was packed as was Hoggle's lunch. When the glowing star completely tore free of the horizon, the mortal looked at her friends, kissed them both, thanked them for their kindness and steeled herself for her next step. Hoggle kissed his wife and joined Sarah at the door.

"Don't go," the voice had been weak, barely audible in fact and both of them turned to face Drema with the same solemn look of vulnerability. They didn't want to go, but they both knew it was for the best. "Please don't go," she said again her eyes wet and unable to return their stares.

"I must," Sarah admitted though she felt a certain amount of doubt inside, in that part of her that still believed in happy endings, utopia, the good in people. That part of her wanted to stay here where she could be mothered and fathered as she never had, where she could love a little girl like she never thought possible. Embracing the woman once more, "You will never know what you have meant to me," she wanted to tell her more about how she would never forget her, how she had grown to love them all so much, but her emotion rendered her silent. She turned away quickly unable to stop the tears from falling and walked with great purpose to the door. If she didn't leave now she never would.

Outside the house she returned to normal size. Wearing her jeans and a peasant top, Sarah's heart broke. She would have sworn on a stack of bibles that she had actually heard the crack. It sounded just like a door slamming. Hoggle came to her side, compassionately taking her hand, "You stop yer cryin'. You'll be back, back to read Sarah to sleep, back to help Drema cook." He thrust his pointer finger into his chest, "I'll see to it. We got each other through that maze once before and we can do it again." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief handing it to Sarah.

Taking it from him she dried her eyes. When she breathed in to sigh, Sarah could smell the scent of the stump on the handkerchief. It was like any other home she'd ever entered in her life. As soon as you walked through the door there was some scent, a candle, a food, a perfume that you would forever identify with the person or family inside. Sarah finished cleaning her face and stuffed the cloth in her pocket. "Ready?" Hoggle asked raising a hand to transport them.

"I think I'd rather walk," she told him.

Understanding her hesitation they headed down the path toward the Labyrinth's gates. Hoggle rattled off a list of reminders: Don't step in the bog of stench. If you find yourself in an oubliette look around for hidden doors. Watch out for nippers. Don't give the wiseman anymore jewelry. She had almost forgotten the wiseman. His words had seemed like rubbish then. "Young woman, the way forward is also the way back," he had told her. But now, those words haunted her, echoing in her head like a warning, stimulating the part of her brain that believed in destiny. Her body was recalling all the frustration, all the determination of her last journey. There was fear to some extent, but it took more to frighten her now, much more. Confidently she took her first step onto what had been red sand just days ago. Now there stood tall grasses around the water features, the dead trees were alive with foliage and grass paved the way to the stone walls.

"It wouldn't have been long until he found you," Hoggle told her, "not if your magic has already reached to here."

Sarah only nodded still taking it all in. "No, I guess it wouldn't have," she muttered just then realizing he was talking about Jareth. There was one more sensation for her body to recall and it tingled at the idea of seeing him again. How on earth could anyone desire and dread the same set of eyes, the same pair of hands, the same coupling of lips? Then again, Sarah was no longer on earth.

"Sarah!" Hoggle called interrupting her thoughts. "Sarah!"

"What is it, Hoggle?"

"Be careful. Don't take anything for granted and for pity's sake don't fall into these daydreams you've become so prone to." His toe ground into the grass beneath his feat, his actions speaking more than his words. "And if you need me..."

Soft lips met his cheek and green eyes looked warmly into his, "I'll call."

The gate to the Labyrinth was still there, still the same enormous wooden structure Sarah remembered from her childhood. Grasping the handle she pulled back one side, and peered in. Same rocky dirt floors, a bit more debris than she remembered, same grey stone walls, same endless hallway in either direction. "Gotta start somewhere," she sighed and let the handle go. Sarah faced right and headed down the hall in hopes of finding another old friend along the way. A great noise came from back where she had entered and Sarah assumed it was the gate swinging closed, but maybe it was Hoggle's heart breaking as he realized that what one promises to a friend and what one is capable of doing for a friend are not always one in the same.

Yards of brick passed in her peripheral vision as she traversed the path. Some places the brick seemed sunken in, in others it was missing altogether. Hoggle had spoken true when he told her the damage was only worse the closer it got to Jareth. 'The Goblin City must have been in ruins by now,' she thought. Just ahead was a huge hole in a portion of the labyrinth wall. She approached it carefully, not knowing who or what would be on the other side. It was too high to stick her head through, but low enough that she could get her arm through up to the elbow. Carefully she grabbed the bottom of the opening and started to apply pressure testing to see whether or not she would be able to pull herself up for a look around. Steadily she increased the weight she expected the wall to bear until she found herself lying on her back a collection of stone and brick scattered on and about her.

"Oh," she moaned aching from the fall. "Guess it's only my pride I've damaged." Sarah stood and began brushing herself off.

"'Ere now, what's the meaning of tearin' down the wall I spent all morning rebuildin'?" The voice had no face.

"Excuse me," Sarah peaked her head through the now door sized hole and looked around.

"You the one did that?" A trough pointed at the hole. The tool was in the hand of a goblin, who strange as it was to see, donned paint splashed overalls and a cap. When the mortal didn't answer he continued, "No matter. You're here and you're gettin' blamed. Why I oughtta call out the king's guards, but they're all away on a mission for his highness now."

"A mission?"

"Yeah, some best of the worst, spy on the Representatives, say no more kinda thing," he gave her a nod.

Sarah liked the way he talked with a heavy English accent that dropped letters out of words at a moment's notice with no rhyme or reason. She liked his mannerisms, how animated he was as he spoke to her and the gentle easy way of his words, but she couldn't help thinking that Jareth's little mission had already exposed her and she was doomed. "What's your name?"

"Mason," he said returning to his work, gathering up all the stone she'd pulled in on herself.

"I'm Sarah."

"Well Sarah, right pleased to meet you." He extended his hand which Sarah gladly shook before she bent down to help gather the rubble. "What you think you're doing? Trying to get me axed? If his majesty saw you doin' at he'd have me head. He was very specific when he told me Mason, you go and fix me Labyrinth stone by stone if necessary and don't botch it up, or else!"

"Or else? What's specific about or else?"

"Noth-thing," he stressed plucking the stone from her arms, "but that's enough for me."

She laughed at him and kept right on helping. "Look, you weren't told no one could help you?"

"Well no, but it ain't right asking a young woman, such as you are, to ruin her hands in manual labor, such as this is."

"Don't be ridiculous. I made this mess and I should help repair it. I want to help."

"Suppose it wouldn't hurt. Might actually save me aching back if you were to hand me the bits so I could fit them in."

Four hours they worked on the wall the wall together. Sarah told Mason she was a friend of Hoggle's. Of course they knew one another from working together in the Labyrinth and he told Sarah of a particular time when he had caught Hoggle sleeping on the job and snuck up on him, mocking Jareth's voice and scaring him silly. "Like this," he said and it was Jareth's voice that escaped his mouth when he spoke again, "Sleeping on the job again, Hogwart?"

"That's amazing," Sarah said with her eyes wide.

"Not much. Every mythical has magic, mine's imitation. Long as I've heard it," this time Sarah's voice rolled over his lips, "I can duplicate it just as easy as this." Her laughter made him smile.

"My but that is the sincerest form of flattery."

Mason looked at the wall, the last brick in place, the last of the mortar spread, nothing left to do but seal the area. The goblin was busy struggling to get the lid off the sealant when Sarah smoothed her hand over the patch they'd made, admiring what Mason had done. Instantly the patch was sealed. Sarah drew her hand back and gasped. When he faced forward, Mason gawked at what he saw. "How'd you do that?"

"Must be my magic," she said still in shock herself.

"Blimey!" Mason approached the wall and gave it a knock, it was still standing. "Well," he said, "gotta be movin' along, more spots to patch. Don't suppose you'd care to join me?"

"Sorry, I have to get," Sarah thought carefully about how best to get where she wanted without letting out too much information about what she was doing, "to where the damage is the worst."

The goblin humpfed at her, "Ambitious one ain't ya? Suit yourself then. You're goin' wanna go that way," he indicated left, "until you come to what looks like a dead end. Don't turn round, otherwise the maze will mix everything up on you and the passage with close. Instead, keep lookin' at that wall and reach out your right arm, the passage will open and you can go right through the wall. That shouldn't be any problem for you, right?" he nudged her with his elbow. "Once you're in the new passage take the third left and go down the stairs. At the bottom there's a spotty chap who'll get you the rest of the way. All the worst damage is closer to the castle, but if I was you, I'd stay with me."

"You're probably right, but like you, I have a job to do. I'm sure that someone such as yourself can understand duty." Her fingers crossed behind the long sleeves of her peasant shirt as she hoped he would agree.

Mason beamed and slid a thumb beneath the strap of his overall, "Indeed I do, miss, indeed I do." He tipped his cap to her before he left.

Following the directions she had been given, Sarah made her way to the staircase and approached carefully, whoever this "spotty chap" was, she didn't want any surprises. There were only a few wide steps which finished in two small columns, each with a flat pedestal that held a bust of an angel. Sarah had never come across anything like this last time. The closest was a courtyard with the wiseman's throne and a large urn, but this was beautiful. Then it occurred to her, it shouldn't have been. She asked Mason to send her where the damage was worst and he had tricked her!

"Halt, who goes there?" a familiar voice cried out while Sarah was still looking around at the columns and arcades that lined the open space to the right at the bottom of the stairs. "Milady!" Sir Didymus cried out, "Milady is it truly you?"

"Didymus?" Sarah flung her arms open wide and the tiny creature went tearing into them like a shot. "It's very good to see you Sir Didymus."

"And to see you, sweet maiden. But tell me, what brings thee back here." He narrowed his eyes in on her out of concern.

"I wish to see the one within the Labyrinth whose smell is the keenest, who's heart is the bravest, who shall fight anyone, anywhere, anytime..."

"'Tis I milady, 'tis I," he extended his arm wide and bounced madly back into her grip. "Ambrosius, come we have a visitor, you and I."

The sheepdog came running into the court as if it were feeding time and jumped at Sarah, who set Didymus down so that she could pet Ambrosius properly. "Hello fearless steed," she smiled down into the fur that covered his eyes. "I wish I had longer to stay and chat, but I must reach the castle before nightfall."

Fox that he was, Didymus smelled something not right about Sarah's words. "Ah, so you have come for more than just a visit with me and my steed. What is it that you've come for?"

"Please understand, I would tell you, but I'm here to do something very personal, something I dare not get anyone else involved with."

"But milady, when last you, Hoggle, Brother Ludo and I joined forces we were unstoppable."

"Be that as it may," Sarah smiled at the memory, "I am no longer a child and the journey I make now has greater risks and greater stakes. I won't involve you."

Didymus looked at her and switched his head from resting on his left shoulder to his right and back again. "So it is true, you are no longer a child. Indeed you have grown up nearly as much as you have grown beautiful." At his side Ambrosius rolled onto his back and begged for a tummy rub. "Ambrosius!" Perhaps she could spare just a little time.

Sarah bent to oblige him. "Thank you Sir Didymus. There is something you could do that will help."

"Name it!"

"Mason said you could help me get to where the damage of the Labyrinth was greatest, but this," she eyed their surroundings, "this is far too beautiful a spot to have gotten me any closer to the castle."

"Not so. In fact, Mason has helped you through the first quarter of the maze. This is a sanctuary. Jareth had it built ages ago, but few know of its existence. With no bridge to guard at the bog, he sent me here."

"To guard what?"

Sarah followed him to a doorway, "This."

"What is this?"

"This is the tomb of the Leanan Sidhe and none but the king may enter without my permission."

This was a conversation that had been had many times before. "May I have your permission?" Sarah asked him growing more curious with each second she stood before the mausoleum.

At great length Didymus said, "Yes?" It was more of a question than an answer, but either way.

Based on the type of building she was about to enter, Sarah did so quietly and with immense respect. Torches burned along the walls casting their light on the herringbone stone pattern on the floor. The room was small, smaller than Sarah expected it to be. On the far wall was a gigantic painting of a beautiful woman whose hair was long and black. She wore a violet dress that wove around her accenting a slim figure. Her arms crossed her bodice, hands and fingers extended up. She had long fingers, almost unnaturally long Sarah thought. Flames licking at the torches made light jump and she appeared to dance. Without knowing it, Sarah had approached the photo. Beneath it a plaque read: Here lies the soul of the Leanan Sidhe although her body is realms away. Not even her son could quiet the cries that came from loving too hard until one dies.

Sarah reached up to wipe away a fugitive tear that had escaped her eye. If Jareth had this place built, it only stood to reason that this woman was his mother. She thought the look in the eyes of the painting was familiar. They had the same passion in them that Jareth's eyes did, the same far away something that she was never able to put a finger on that made him seem forever elusive. On the floor, beneath her photo there were piles of dead flowers. Sarah turned to leave, suddenly feeling like she didn't belong in this shrine, like she had been wrong to even enter it. In the corners of the opposite wall she saw two cases made of crystal. In the one to the right bloomed a calla lily. In the case on the left, what Sarah recognized as an Indian dream catcher hung, two raven feathers dangling from leather ropes off the bottom. It was one thing to find the plant, it was quite another to come across a piece of native American culture inside a tomb hidden deep in the Labyrinth. Fear struck her heart and she fled the mausoleum. Something or someone was very unhappy that she was there.

In her hurry, she nearly tripped over Sir Didymus, "Milady, are you alright?"

"I...ah...you know Didymus, I'm thirsty. Do you know where I could get some water?" Sarah hadn't thought about filling up before leaving Hoggle's house.

Sir Didymus guided her to a small fountain off to the side of the courtyard. She refilled the bottle in the side pocket of her bag and then cupped her hand and gulped down mouthfuls until her thirst subsided. She pulled out an apple and some of the crackers and cheese she had packed. "Wish I would have thought to bring a knife," Sarah said. Almost before she finished wishing for it, the knife appeared in her hand. Sarah split the apple into eight pieces and sliced some of the cheese. "Care to join me?"

The small fox jumped up on the fountain to sit beside her. She handed him a piece of the apple which he looked at for some time until he saw Sarah eat a piece and then he knew what to do with it. Sarah fed Ambrosius a piece of cheese which he seemed to enjoy quite a lot. Reunited, the three of them ate while Sarah and Didymus chattered away. He couldn't resist recounting how many goblins there had been who suffered at the hands of the brave knight since last Sarah was in this strange place. 'No doubt,' she thought as she watched his animated re-enactments

At some length, having recovered from the eerie feelings which spooked her out of the mausoleum, Sarah asked Didymus about the tomb. "The king had it built to honor his mother," he admitted as a sorrowful expression lengthened his face.

"How did she die?"

"The Leanan Sidhe went Aboveground and stayed too long. She willed herself to die. The mortals buried her body in a unmarked grave and her soul returned to its home in the Underground. At first, it was quite a bothersome thing, wrecking all kinds of havoc round the castle. Fey do not commonly condemn themselves the way she had. Her soul could not admit that it had passed and so Jareth built this home for her."

"I thought fey were immortal," Sarah said, confusion written in her eyes.

"Tis true. Yet there are a few things that can do them in. Foremost, iron, they are most susceptible to the metal and even a small wound has the potential to threaten their life. A jab in the heart is certain death. The next greatest danger is entrapment. A mortal will sometimes snare a fey, usually when they are in creature form and imprison them in iron cages. The iron weakens the fey's magic and therefore they are unable to escape. This ties nicely into the third certainty, staying too long in the mortal world. The fey's magic begins to fade, then the memories of the Underground and the life they knew, they change, not only who they are but what they are. None that I know of have ever survived the transformation from fey to mortal."

"But what about Jareth? He's gone Aboveground," Sarah argued, "plenty of times."

Sir Didymus made his eyes wide, "Jareth is a different story. He must go Aboveground in order to do what it is he does. He never stays long."

For a moment she couldn't speak. Jareth had come Aboveground, risked entrapment, risked losing his magic, his memory to see her. But then something in the way the brave knight looked at her was making Sarah think there was more to it. "I know he's been there for at least a full day. There's more to it isn't there?"

"Jareth can do as he pleases, he's..." Sir Didymus had all to eagerly offered Sarah information that his highness would not be happy for a mortal to know and chose his next words very carefully, "...king."

"But,..."

"It is no use milady. My tongue wags too easily in your company and I shall say no more on this topic." The fox crossed his arms and looked away from her.

"Does he come here often?"

"Whom?"

"Jareth. There must be twenty five bouquets of flowers in there." Sarah said remembering the collection beneath the huge painting on the far wall.

Didymus eyed her, perplexed by her concern for the fey she had once defeated. "He comes here often, yes, but he never stays long. He and his mother had a difficult relationship in life and even in death she keeps him at arm's length, never allowing him to truly grieve for her or get to close."

That was it. The part of her that now held Jareth's soul was what the Leanan Sidhe was trying to rush out of the mausoleum. Even in the smallest amounts, beyond the constraints of death, a mother still knew her child. What Sarah couldn't figure out was why? Why would a mother want to cast her own son away even after death? Jareth could be cruel, but had he been so cruel, even to her? Surely someone who came to morn, who brought flowers and built such grand monuments wasn't capable of the kind of cruelty that made you turn them away.

As if he was reading her mind Sir Didymus reiterated, "I've told you much too much already milady, I'm afraid I can tell you no more."

All around them the golden sun was turning more crimson. It was growing late. "Sir Didymus, how many hours of daylight are left?"

The fox looked into the sky and studied the position of the sun, "I would guess we have another four hours or so before darkness begins to fall. Why doust thou ask milady?"

"I mustn't be in the Labyrinth once it gets dark. Hoggle said that I mustn't I've got to get to the castle." Quickly she gathered her water and closed her bag. "It was wonderful to see you again," she told him and bent to kiss his cheek. Then with a final wave Sarah took off through the opposite end of the courtyard in a fast jog on her way to the castle.

"But milady..." Sir Didymus called after her, "milady, you don't know where you're going?"

Though she had been hasty, Sarah was still headed in the right direction. Had she exhibited a little more patience, her friend could have shown her a faster path, not plagued by the mysteries and mythicals of the Labyrinth, but what was done, was done. The walls were starting to look monotonous again, no doors, no turns, no holes large enough to crawl through, but at least there were holes. When she saw the damage, she found it strangely comforting. Where the damage grew more severe, her feet traveled closer to the castle, closer to Jareth. Sarah's mind wondered again about Jareth's relationship with his mother. Distraction had taken over her better judgment and as she ran facing straight ahead, looking for somewhere to turn, some direction to change, the floor beneath her opened and she was swallowed up.

"Damn!" she cried out when she made contact with the hard dirt floor. "I would go and land myself in an oubliette." All around her she could see only black. It had been the same when the not so helpful helping hands lowered her into the oubliette the first time. Only then she had Hoggle to save her. What was it he said? 'Look for hidden doors,' she thought as she began crawling around feeling with her hands. "Ouch!" she cried when her fingers stubbed into something rising from the floor. It was wide, cold, made of stone and rose four feet or more off the floor. Using it for balance Sarah stood. She found herself behind a podium of sorts. Smoothing her hands over the top, she found a small depression, circular, about the size of a half dollar. Pressing on it, it gave way. Her finger drew back. 'A button,' she thought depressing it as far as it would go.

Light filled the cavern where she had landed. To her right a stone head very much like the false alarms she and Hoggle had met when he was leading her toward the castle. "Welcome to the Hall of Truth," the head told her.

"Thank you," she replied, "but if you don't mind, why am I here?"

"I don't know. I was going to ask you."

Sarah was flustered. The fall was rather unexpected and she was not thinking before asking her questions. Again she tried, "What must I do to get out of your hall, please?"

"Ah, that is a much simpler question. I will ask you five questions which you must answer honestly. Should you fail to give an honest answer you will be met by some sort of obstacle, there are many here eager to be utilized. Should the obstacle overwhelm you, you will be vanquished from the Hall of Truth and delivered to the Pit of Consequences. Sound fun?"

"No," Sarah replied thinking that truth was a rather interpretive concept and who was this stone head to determine her truth or not.

"Very good! That's the first one then. That was easy enough." The hall before her illuminated with a soft yellow light, a reward for her honesty, "Now what's your name?"

'This was going to be a breeze,' she thought as she replied, "Sarah." The stone head let out a cough as though her answer was some how incomplete. "Sarah...Williams?" It came out more of a question this time.

"You must advance to the platform," the head explained, casting a red light on to a platform a few feet down the hall. "Use the items at the platform to provide your answer."

There was always a catch in this place. Sarah approached the platform to see a series of numbered tiles. "How am I supposed to spell my name with a bunch of numbers?" she moaned.

"Not my problem."

Sarah wanted to scream something about how unfair this whole thing was. How was she supposed to know what to do when he was behaving in such a cryptic fashion? Cryptic! That's what this was. It was a cryptogram. Sarah had done them right out of the Sunday paper with her father for years before Karen came along and changed him forever. Each letter was assigned a number and you broke the code. She counted the number of tiles - thirteen - the exact number of letters in her name. This place already knew all the answers, it was testing her. This head that barked at her in monotone from the side of this hall wasn't seeking truth from her it wanted to see if she would admit the truth. Fine! If that's what it took to get out of here. There were three number fives. Two each of the ones, threes, and sixes. One two, one four, one seven and one eight.

While she worked she talked aloud so she could hear herself think. "The fives must be a's," she said, "because there are three." She dropped the fives into their slots. Then she picked up all her double number tiles and began to drop them into place. "One, five, blank, five, blank, blank, three, six, six, three, five, blank, one. Okay, now the singles: One, five, two, five, four, seven, three, six, six, three, five, eight, one."

"Correct! You may move on." The red follow spot now shown what reminded her of a bowling ally.

Approaching the lit area, she could see that in fact it was very much like a bowling alley. There were twenty pins, two of each number zero to nine. In the pedestal beside her a clear shoot dispensed wooden balls about the size of the skee balls from the Chuck E. Cheese's where she would sometimes take Toby. "What am I supposed to do?"

"Patience," the stone told her as it slid along like some giant chess piece trying to keep up with the mortal woman. "Most mortal woman hate to admit this, but what is your age?"

That struck a chord. Sarah hated that she was thirty, hated that she felt as if she'd wasted so much of her life. 'What the hell?' she figured as she wrapped her hand around one of the wooden spheres and lined it up on the alley. Her delicate fingers lifted from the ball and gravity took over. It rolled slowly down the lane. When it reached the end it struck a two pin and plunked into the black hole behind the pins. A small goblin popped up seemingly from nowhere and began running back and forth across the lane, shouting at Sarah about her inability and frankly being rather distracting. "What's that?"

"That is one of the hall's obstacles."

"But I didn't lie. I just missed the pin is all."

"I should have mentioned that the game does require a certain amount of skill and concentration." Sarah thought she saw the thing smirk when he said that.

With all her will she focused on the three at the end of the lane. Even that damned goblin couldn't stop her. Her fingers wrapped around another ball and she let if fly a bit more force behind this attempt. The ball rolled beneath the goblin's feet and sent him tumbling. 'Bonus!' Sarah thought as she watched it continue to roll along and eventually take out one of the three pins. Without waiting for the stone to tell her to take her second shot, she grabbed the third ball and with as much concentration and fervor as before hurled it at one of the zeroes. This time she managed to knock them both over. Rather impressed with her self she turned back to the stone, "Well?"

"You may proceed." Another few feet ahead was a narrow path which led to a platform open on all sides but for the path. "Please stand on the platform in the center."

Sarah approached this challenge more carefully. She didn't know what lie below the platform and wasn't going to take any chance that it would be easier to conquer than the Hall of Truth. Once on the platform she released a great sigh. Behind her the narrow pathway folded back leaving her standing on a spot no more than twice the size of her feet. Her heart beat so fast in her chest she felt as if it would knock her off balance at any second. Deep breaths filled and fled her lungs in a steady rhythm as she tried to calm herself. From beneath her, the floor seemed to rise up around the pedestal. There were eight rings each divided in to 26 portions, each portion containing a letter of the alphabet, each ring made up of a complete set. They spun around her alternating clockwise and counterclockwise, speeding up as the concentric circles went further out.

"Who brings you to this Labyrinth?" The stone head spoke once more after a rather long silence watching Sarah dread this challenge.

The first wheel was spinning clockwise. Sarah poised a toe and waited for the H to make its way around. She stepped forward. The panel beneath her feet gave way and Sarah believed she would fall the entire depth of the chasm that surrounded the pedestal. Instead she dropped only a few feet before the stone head said, "Don't lie to me Sarah."

After a moment the platform rose and Sarah watched the counter clock-wise spinning of the second wheel. Didymus had brought her this far and Mason had brought her to Didymus. But there names were either too long or too short. F - R - I - E - N - D - S. That would fit she thought as she made her move for the F. A hatch on the far wall dropped open and Sarah knew immediately she was wrong again. Just as a barrel point slid out and shot a stream of flames across the hall, she dropped flat to the board beneath her, the spinning tiles giving her back one hell of an Indian burn, but it was better than the burn she'd have gotten otherwise.

The flames receded, "Perhaps you may not want to lie to yourself either."

What did this place want from her? Hoggle had lead her straight to the Labyrinth's doors and afterwards it was her friends which had brought her to this point. What else could the stone possible have believed would have brought her here? Certainly wasn't the hospitality. Painfully the truth came to her head just as it had come to her heart - Jareth. The circles were spinning faster now and the task at hand was growing more impossible. If only she'd have thought of it sooner. Blurs of black ink went zipping passed, none staying long enough that she could focus on what they were. With a gulp she lunged forward on her best guess. In her mind she wished to land on the letter J. Surely enough when she opened her eyes the J was between her feet. She wished again as she leapt to the next ring and the next and the next until she reached the last. Sarah eagerly jumped off the final ring and looked behind her. Now the letters seem ten feet tall as they spelled out the name of the Goblin King.

"Corrrrrect!" No sooner had her host spoke the spot illuminated her final challenge.

Sarah was tired and frightened. That last challenge had nearly done her in she had no idea how long she had been here or how deep under the Labyrinth she was. Being on the surface would have at least given her the few fleeting rays of light which remained in the day, but here she had only the stone head and the gloomy spot. "What if I don't want to move on?"

"You have no choice," came the reply as cold as the granite he was made of.

Reluctantly, Sarah moved into the light and awaited the next challenge, "What business have you with the king?"

"What business is that of yours?" she questioned.

"You will not ask questions. You will only answer them."

"Really? Well what if I was to beat you at your own game?" Even if she wasn't sure how she could do it, anything was better than just giving this thing its way.

"No one has ever beaten me. Few have ever survived this hall. I have been more than generous with you, giving you the simplest of questions to start."

"Until I arrived no one had beaten the king either and you, you call yourself generous! What's wrong with the creatures is this maze? They don't know a thing about generosity."

"That's your interpretation of it," he retorted.

Sarah crossed her arms about her chest, "Are you saying I'm wrong?"

"Indeed!"

"How so?" Their argument was heated, each had their eyes intent upon the other and words spat back and forth so quickly that if a response weren't quickly thought of one of the opponents would be left speechless and looking rather foolish.

"I asked you if you were having fun."

"So you did."

"I asked you your name."

"Can't argue with that."

"I asked you your age."

"And I would have been most ashamed to have gotten that answer wrong."

"But you still do not find me generous?"

"Oh yes, yes I do very much so." A giant smile spread across her lips

"Then let us proceed, we've much to do and little time to do it in."

"But we're through," Sarah told him, "And if it would please you all the same I would like to know how I can get back to the Labyrinth's surface from here.

The stone head laughed, "Woman you've got mad if, you dare to imagine you've beaten me."

"Ah, but I have. You asked if I still did not find you generous and I said that in fact I did, that being my fifth honest answer since my arrival in your hall. If I correctly remember your explanation five truthful answers in a row means I've completed your challenge." She stood her ground smug and firm.

He opened his mouth and the roar that came forth caused the walls to crumble a bit. Sarah began to run as fast as her feet could carry her in the direction of the follow spot hoping that this tunnel led somewhere, preferably back up. The further she got, the louder the head cried, the louder he cried the more the walls caved in. Up ahead she could see just a few streaks of light and an old rope ladder like she and Hoggle used to crawl out of the tunnels where the cleaners had come for them. By the time she reached the fourth rung, the Hall of Truth behind her was nothing more than stone and rubble. It would be a long while before anyone played that game again.

In the distance the sun was setting, positioned like Humpty Dumpty on the top of one of the Labyrinth walls. Sarah looked left and right, both seeming to be viable options as she could see that they both had turns coming, but she went left when she spotted a portion of wall that had completely caved in. "Wherever the destruction is greatest," she reminded herself before taking off down the path. Cautiously she looked in where the wall had caved through and it made her miss Mason, which made her miss Hoggle. It was getting darker inside the Labyrinth even though the sky was still light. Sarah could barely see five feet in front of her let alone tell what was inside this room she seemed to be peering into. "Best I not take any chances," she said and continued straight ahead.

There were significant spots of damage showing in the Labyrinth now and the conflict that it created in Sarah's mind kept her from enjoying the fact that she was getting closer. Still she must have been deep in the Labyrinth for it to be so dark. She tried wishing for a flashlight, but with no result. For a minute she wondered why her magic was failing her, but then she realized that she hadn't had magic before so what would she be losing. She wished for something to eat and one of the apples from her bag was instantly in her hand. Okay so she hadn't totally lost her magic, maybe it just wasn't strong enough to retrieve things that were very far away she rationalized.

She could barely see in front of her nose when her hands felt another caved in section of wall. When Sarah looked inside it seemed quiet enough and the darkness made it look small. A yawn contorted her face as she thought about curling up in a corner and hopefully going unnoticed for the night. She could have wished for Hoggle, but he'd take her back home with him and she'd just have to do it all again tomorrow. By then everything could change again, sure it could have been for the good, but it also could have been for the worse. She'd come far this first day and if she could just make a few hours until sunrise she would no doubt reach the castle in tomorrow's time. It was a chance her aching legs forced her to take. Slipping her pack off her shoulders so it could serve as a pillow, she stepped through the opening and turned to the right sliding her hand along the wall hoping to find a corner. The floor was soft and giving beneath her feet. Sarah only hoped that it wouldn't giving way completely.

From behind the mortal two strong arms grabbed her, one large hand over her mouth suppressing her scream and the second around her waist. Much as she tried to deny it her mind told her this was her end. She refused to give up. Her arms and legs clawed and kicked at her attacker, but to no avail. Whatever it was that had a hold of her was too strong to fend off. Wisely she decided to save her energy on the off chance that this thing let her go and she might have a moment's opportunity to flee. If her mouth were free she'd have called for Hoggle as she was only too hesitant to do earlier. Her mind went numb and her body limp.


	13. Chapter 13

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN - FOOLS RUSH IN**

Hoggle's small feet plodded along the path that led back to his home thankful that years of traveling the same route had made him adept enough to travel it without the benefit of light. His thoughts were consumed with Sarah's well being. He'd told her how dangerous the Labyrinth could be at night, tried to warn her, told her to call on him if she need anything, but day had come and gone as he stood vigilant at the gates with no word. Hoggle opened the door to his humble home. His daughter was already in bed. Drema came rushing up to him, "Where is she? Where's Sarah?"

"Don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know? You told me you'd keep an eye on her."

Hoggle flopped into his favorite chair and stared straight ahead, ignoring his wife stooped at his side, "She never called me. How can I keep an eye on her if she doesn't call me?"

Drema put her arms around him, "Oh dear, I'm so sorry. You must be worried sick."

He was, more so than he cared to admit. "I don't want to think 'bout it anymore. Let's just go to bed. The sooner tomorrow comes the happier I'll be."

"You can't do that. You can't just hide in bed when Sarah might need you. You've got to go find her."

"I can't. If she don't wish for me I can't go to her."

Drema looked away as her tears began to well up, "Well what good is magic if you can't do anything with it?"

"Come on Drema. Let's sleep this night away. When morning comes I'll find an excuse to make my way into the Labyrinth for somethin' or another and I'll find her. She's a smart girl. I'm sure she's fine." He took his wife's hand and they settled into bed, neither one slept nor did they speak. Morning might as well have been a week away.

Arulan came into Jareth's chambers unannounced. Fortunately he was dressed. An elegant pair of black silk pajamas draped him as he sat on the green marble settee, the fire ablaze. "Your highness," she called as she entered.

"What is it?" In the soft glow of the fire she saw his lips just barely moving to let the words out.

"I've a matter I wish to discuss with you?"

"Can it not wait until morning?"

"No your majesty I do not believe that it can wait another moment." She joined him on the settee. Her shoulders square with determination. "I wish to discuss what transpired between you and the mortal."

Jareth rose an eyebrow wondering why she would come to him to discuss a topic he thought he had clearly closed. "Really then?"

"I know that you went to see her. I'm guessing you couldn't keep up your charade of coldness and you told her once again of your feelings for her." She noticed him glancing away into the flames and surmised she was correct. "You know you can tell me Jareth. I've never betrayed you and I don't have any intentions of starting now."

"Dear lady, I beg you not trouble yourself with ills you cannot mend. The mortal has denied me again. Yes, but don't you see in doing so she has set me free to better focus my energies on ruling my kingdom."

"Is that how you see it?" she barked at him.

"As a matter of fact."

"Well, if you think that sending out your goblins to spy on the Representatives and turning yourself into some evil beast is for the best..." Arulan gasped at her own outburst. "I figured she had denied you Jareth, but I fear it is something more that has been said or done," she accentuated the latter, "to put you in a mood as foul as this one." The king continued staring into the fire "You must love her very much." This time her words were gentle and kind.

"Not at all," he said gazing deeper in the fire, in his minds eye he saw the dancing flames as reflections of him with his mortal. The way they blended together into one large fire, the way they seemed to grasp at one another and then draw back. 'Arulan, you have no idea just what had happened between us that day,' Jareth thought as he lost himself further and further into his daydream.

"You don't want to tell me and that's fine, but I'll be here, ready to listen when you need to talk." Her hand reached out for his shoulder. "I wish you wouldn't keep things all bottled up inside this way."

"I don't believe in wishes anymore."

"No wonder your kingdom crumbles down around you. How long are you going to let your foolish pride keep you from being king? You can't go back to her and she has no power to call upon you. You must put the past behind you. What is said and done is said and done," the elf reminded him. Jareth rose an eyebrow at her indicating just how unwelcome her words were. Arulan stood

and left. She didn't care what Jareth said, he still loved the mortal and probably always would, but he had a kingdom to run not ruin.

"Who's stepping on Ludo's bed," a rough voice came from behind Sarah but she remained motionless. Ludo let out a tiny howl and two flint rocks brushed themselves together igniting a small pile of kindling encircled with stone. The tiny fire was no good for heat, but it nicely lit his little corner of the Labyrinth. He lay the creature in his arms in the glow of the flames. "Sar - rah?" he tilted his head looking at her as if he remembered the face he was looking at and yet didn't. "Sar-rah," this time he shook her gently.

Her vision was blurry when she came to. All her life Sarah laughed at women, like Karen, like her mother who actually passed out from fear, and now she was one of them. What on earth had made her react that way? Then she remembered what had frightened her in the first place. Ludo bent down so that his face was illuminated by the fire and she could see his comforting smile. "Ludo! It was you who grabbed me and scared me half to death." The beast shook his head up and down fiercely. "Ludo!" Sarah gave him a gentle slap on the arm.

"Ludo sorry." He sat facing her looking more sorrowful than any beast should.

Unable to resist any longer, Sarah flung herself into his arms and became lost in his sheer massiveness. She hugged him tight, happy as ever to be with him again. "It's okay Ludo. I'm okay."

"Sar-rah still Ludo's friend?"

"Of course I am," she soothed him as her hands stroked his thick fur. "I've missed you terribly."

"Ludo miss Sar-rah." He looked at her curiously with his head cocked, "Where Sar-rah come from?"

"It's a long story," Sarah practically moaned, exhausted from all the day had given her. "I'll tell you about it in the morning. Right now I'd just love to get some sleep."

Ludo pointed toward the make shift mattress pushed up against what had once been a complete wall. His huge paws gently edged her closer to the thing. 'It was big enough to sleep her whole family,' Sarah thought as she crawled onto the mattress. It was soft and not very supportive, but it would do fine for a night's rest. Almost as suddenly as her head hit the pillowy softness, dreams took her over. Ludo curled beside her their two backs rested together for heat, "Night Sar-rah." He whispered. The sleeping mortal never even stirred.

Ludo moaned as morning's first rays stung his sensitive eyes. Funny that a beast such as he would have anything sensitive about him, but Ludo's eyes were second to his heart. He nudged Sarah forcing her to stir as well. "Sar-rah? Sar-rah?"

"What is it Karen?"

"Kar-ren?" He shook her again, "Sar-rah?"

This time she opened her eyes wide and her pupils shrank in the sunshine. Her first night in the Underground had come and gone and she was still here. "Ludo?" she called rubbing her eyes "Is it morning already?" Ludo just shook his head. "I feel like I only just fell asleep." Sleeping on the cold floor of the Labyrinth, even despite the mattress, was uncomfortable, but at least she had the safety of Ludo's nearness.

"Ludo, do you know how to get to the castle from here?"

The beast shook his head side to side.

"Oh, you never were good with directions."

Still shaking his head side to side Ludo told her, "King smash door."

"What do you mean, Ludo?" He wasn't much of a conversationalist either if Sarah remembered correctly.

"Ludo show Sar-rah."

"Okay Ludo. Show me," she took the hand he offered and let him drag her along the way. After a number of turns and double backs, Sarah was getting hungry. She took two apples from her bag and offered one to Ludo. He accepted and swallowed it whole. Sarah nibbled on hers nearly choking on a bit when she saw Ludo fall into a hole up ahead. In the seconds it took her to reach the spot he'd vanished, the hole was gone. "Great!" Sarah cried up toward the sky, "How in the hell am I supposed to follow him now?"

Without warning the same patch of land opened up and swallowed her too. 'Why did I have to ask?' she thought as she hit the bottom. Now what would she face? For a land that had no idea she was returning, it certainly seemed ready for her. "Ludo?" she called out into the darkness.

"Sar-rah?"

"Ludo where are you?"

"Sar-rah?"

"Just keep talking Ludo and I'll find you." A few more calls of her name and Sarah managed to wrangle a few handfuls of his fur. "Okay Ludo, now listen, I want you to walk with me to the wall. We'll go to my left Ludo, so your right. Ready?" He immediately began to move as she directed. They slid toward the wall and felt the earth against their shoulders. "Good Ludo, good. Now you go right and I'll go left and we'll feel for torches or something on the walls. If you find any tunnels or doors you call me, okay?" The beast was unresponsive. "I can't see you if your shaking your head," which is exactly what he was doing, "so if you understand me you have to tell me, okay Ludo?"

"Okay."

Minutes later the duo rejoined with one another on the other side of what they now knew was an oubliette, a dark, cold, terrible oubliette. "You've got to be kidding me." Sarah kicked the wall. "Feel around on the floor Ludo, for anything that feels like it's a door or might have a door hidden under it." The search went on for what seemed hours until she swallowed her pride and shouted, "Hoggle I need you!"

Mason was just catching up with his old pal, telling him about the girl he'd met who had magic to rebuild the Labyrinth. "Where?" Hoggle asked, desperation straining his voice, "Where did you send her?"

"I sent her to the shrine. Why's it matter so much to you?"

Surely the shrine would do her no harm. Sir Didymus was there and he would undoubtedly direct her somewhere safe. "I'll explain later," he shouted back over his shoulder as he ran off in the direction of the shrine, fear and anxiety making him forget that he could have as easily transported there. Minutes later he stood before Sir Didymus breathless, holding his side and attempting to catch his breath in short gasps. "Where...is...she?"

"Where is whom?" the tiny knight replied.

Didymus seemed edgy even for Didymus who hopped around like a mad squirrel even when nothing was wrong. Hoggle narrowed his eyes at him, "You know who. Where is she?"

"I assure you Mr. Hoggle, that I have no idea of whom you speak." His words came out slowly, each with some strain or accent attached. The cream plume which extended from his floppy blue hat pointed toward the tomb as he gave his head a tilt and jerk.

At last Hoggle understood what he was trying to tell him. Jareth was at the tomb of the Leanan Sidhe. It wasn't wise for them to continue their conversation. This time very quietly he said, "Where did you send her?"

"No where," he replied. "Milady took off when it started getting dark." Didymus repositioned the direction of his hat's feather, "She went that way."

"And what are the two of you discussing?" Jareth had appeared abruptly behind them a scowling look on his face. Their quiet conversation had very much peaked his interest.

"Nothing." Hoggle offered up in a weak voice.

"Come, come Hogbrain, you wouldn't abandon your post at the gates for nothing, would you?" the king continued to interrogate.

"No, no I wouldn't. It's just that..." At the blatant lie he began to stumble.

"Mr. Hoggle was just asking me if I had noticed the direction in which his daughter wandered off."

"Yeah, that's what I was wonderin'."

"Why would you bring your child here, you repulsive little creature?" Jareth was less than pleased with Hoggle for his decision to bring his daughter to the Labyrinth, but it was far better than his reaction to knowing Sarah was in the Labyrinth would have been. "Well don't just stand there. Get to finding her before she winds up stuck in some oubliette somewhere and you go blaming me for your own indiscretion."

"Yes yer majesty," Hoggle replied as he headed off in the direction Didymus had indicated softly calling, "Sarah? Sarah sweetheart?" for fear that the older Sarah might reply to his cries.

The riding crop Jareth carried in his right hand slapped against part of one of the stone topiaries surrounding the fountain in the garden outside the tomb. "Why don't you just transport in on her you idiot?"

As he felt the tug of Sarah's call pulling him toward where ever she was Hoggle couldn't help thinking someone wanted him to find her, for Jareth's question gave him the means for an easy escape. "You're right yer majesty. I'll be doin' that now."

Sarah was slunk down against one of the walls of the oubliette and the moans that she was making could have easily compared to Ludo's any day. "Sar-rah?" he called to her but no reply came. Sarah was busy trying to hold her head together for it felt as though it were going to split wide open and it seemed squeezing her eyes shut like a vice still didn't make the visions go away.

'Hurry Hoggle, please,' she thought just before she gave in and let the images take her over. It was a child, not much older than she had been when first she had come to the Labyrinth. Sarah's body felt her immense exhaustion, her hunger, her fear. It was definitely a girl. She was wearing a dress, strapless and yellow. Sarah could tell it had been a very bright yellow at one point only now it was grubby with smudges of Underearth. In fact, the girl was layered in it, it dug under her nails and marked her face. Her hair had been neatly braided and tied with a ribbon, but wild strands hung loose around her face and in her eyes. The girl was quickly growing tired. Thoughts of her brother faded away, her family seemed like a dream, her life Aboveground a fantasy. Brown eyes fell closed and she faded into unconsciousness. In moments the feelings seemed to end even though the vision was still strong. Sarah could see the oubliette and she could still see the little girl. Her mind's eye walked her over to the sleeping child as Sarah drew her strength from Hoggle's words. 'You're in control,' he had told her. Her shaky hand reached for the soiled dress and gently shook the sleeping child. She fell to her back and glazed eyes stared at the earthen ceiling above them. Sarah screamed and threw open her eyes, a bright yellow ribbon clutched in her fingers.

Quickly Hoggle grabbed the small lantern from his belt, the one he was suddenly thankful Drema made him take along this morning. A sad sight came to light before his eyes. "Hush now," Hoggle said as he swept her into his paternal embrace. "Hush."

Sarah sobbed into his small shoulder. She wept for the girl, she wept for herself and she did so uncontrollably. Jareth was capable of being cruel but not even her most awful nightmare depicted him as a killer. "He left her here to die," the mortal choked out between sobs.

"It's not what you think," the dwarf tried to tell her.

Thrusting the ribbon before his eyes, "Not what I think! It's not what I think! I think he locked her up in here and forgot all about her until she was dead." Sarah noticed Ludo looking particularly frightened as he watched them carefully. "Hoggle," she pleaded before lowering her head to his shoulder and once more began to rain her tears over him.

Jareth actually had forgotten about the girl and so it could be said that inadvertently he had left her to die, but there was more to it than that. There was the fact that this girl had come after Sarah and by then the Goblin King was not keeping quite such a close eye on his opponents. It wasn't like he didn't have any remorse over what had happened. Cruel, yes he was cruel but not cold blooded. Thick fingers rode over waves of Sarah's black hair. "April was gonna be sixteen before the month's end when she wished her little brother away." Sarah's eyes met his exposing the scars her tears had left upon her cheeks. It felt even worse knowing this girl had a name, but she continued to listen while doing her best to not interrupt with another hysterical outburst. "She ran the Labyrinth quite well at first, but she had trouble with the riddles and made a few bad decisions. Well you know yourself that this place has a way of catchin' up with you. April landed here in this oubliette. There were nine hours still left on her clock."

"The king, he didn't use crystals much with mortal gils after you Sarah. Besides by the time the goblins claimed the child and the Christenin' was over, April was gone." Hoggle had been with the king when they discovered her. As gruesome a scene as he'd ever witnessed, Hoggle recalled seeing her so still, so cold and yet at peace. What's more, he saw his king nearly as devastated as he had been by the woman the dwarf held in his arms this moment. It had not been an easy discovery for Jareth who had never killed a human before or since. "You must believe me when I tell you that his majesty was positively beside himself at his own irresponsibility. He assumed full blame for what had happened and immediately set out to the Triumvirate to make a request that had never before been made of the fey."

Behind them Ludo came nearer and sat himself down as if it was story time. Hoggle sighed before he continued, "Jareth asked them for permission to reorder enough time so that the girl would be returned to livin'. Worried more about the reputation of the Underground than the state of its king they agreed; however, the child had already been christened and so it was too late to restore the parents as well. April was sent home to her parents and the history of their lives rewritten so that they no longer remembered a tiny boy who had once been a part of it with them."

Feeling a little more composed Sarah choked out, "And he can just do that?"

"With the help of the Triumvirate, Jareth can do just about anythin' he pleases. He is king you know." Hoggle told her.

"Even play God?" What he had done disgusted Sarah. Not only did he let this girl die down in this terrible dark and nasty place, but then he just manipulated time to bring her back as if that made it all better somehow. "And what about her brother? If he was being so generous, he should have sent the child home as well. He'd give them all back!" Memories of Toby came flooding into her recent recollection forcing Sarah to admit there was still a lot of resentment and distrust when it came to Jareth. "What does he need another goblin for anyway? All he does is kick them around or toss them back and forth."

"He gave that family back one child rather than leavin' them with nothin'."

"But Hoggle that doesn't make it okay!"

"To Jareth, it does," he found himself explaining. That was a new twist. He hated the idea of Jareth being with Sarah. He was furious that they had kissed, annoyed with the idea that Sarah would have let him go on and do whatever it was he would have. Is this what it was going to be like when his own daughter was old enough to attract the opposite sex? And yet there was that nagging something that couldn't bare to see the two of them at odds with each other again. "To him, it was the best he could do. Look Sarah, Jareth is the Goblin King. It's his lot in life. No one would fault you if you had to play the Wicked Witch or the Evil Step-Mother in a stage play because that's just your job. Takin' babies that are wished away, that's Jareth's job, that's what he does. Some things you just can't change."

In her heart, Sarah knew he was right. Jareth was who he was and changing even one thing about him might have taken away the things that made him cruel but it was to risk taking away the things that captivated her about him. There was that air of overconfidence she would have hated for him to lose, that smooth way he could take control of almost any situation that she was awed by. The Goblin King without his royal charm, why that was no Goblin King at all. She hadn't seen that until now, hadn't wanted to admit it was that piece of him which was bad that also made being with him feel so good. "Damn it!" she let out as she began to sob into Hoggle's shoulder again.

"Women," he said shaking his head. He let her cry for a few minutes, let her get as much as she could out of her system before it occurred to him that it was getting later. "Now whattya say we get out of here?" the dwarf asked.

"Out," Ludo said

Sarah nodded.

"Well then, did you look for doors like I told you?"

Sarah nodded.

"Where'd you come in from?" Ludo held up the lantern so they could look for the hole that they fell through. They could see an opening and just inside the rungs of a ladder. "How are we going to get up there?"

Ludo wrapped his large hands around Sarah and lifted her up to the rungs. She grabbed hold and pulled herself up. "Now what? I can't pull Ludo up, so Hoggle will have to come?"

"Well I can't lift him up?"

"Ludo stay," the beast offered.

"No Ludo," Sarah cried out. " I won't let you stay down here."

"Listen Sarah, you haven't the time to argue about this. I'll come with you and once we know you're safely back on your way, I'll have time to find a door and come back to get him loose." Hoggle offered.

Large blue eyes pleaded with her as Ludo was already lifting Hoggle into position at the bottom of the opening. Sarah had to reach down and help him get some footing, but the little dwarf made the climb. "Hoggle will be back to get you soon," she shouted back down to the beast they were leaving behind.

"Okay," they heard him moan.

At the end of the rather long climb, Sarah stepped out first, into the late afternoon sun that was still potent enough to warm her skin. Gentle hands reached out to help her friend resurface as well. "This isn't where we went in," she told Hoggle.

"So often happens here that where you go in is not where you come out."

"Now which way do I go?" she wondered out loud looking all around.

"There's only one way into the Goblin City now. Jareth reconfigured the maze after your victory." Sarah looked away when Hoggle called it that. It certainly didn't feel like a victory, not now anyway. "He made it so as there would be only one path to lead into the Goblin City and no one could sneak up on him again. If I could only remember how to get to that door." His feet seemed guided by a memory his mind couldn't find as he began strolling down a corridor he seemed to choose at random.

Sarah followed behind, gazing around at how ruined everything appeared, dilapidated and old. Not just old in the sense that it had existed for a few millennia, old in away that made it seem useless as if it had been a doll house that was played with for years and then shoved in the back of some closet and forgotten about when roller blades were invented. She wondered when she'd see all her "magic" start working here where things had been their worst. "It's no use," Sarah muttered when they'd been walking quite some ways and dusk was beginning to settle upon them.

"Too late now," her companion said matter-of-factly. "I warned you before you came here that this wasn't a good idea and you came anyway."

"Yeah, well, now look at what I've done. Jareth isn't going to want to see me. He's going to be angry that I've come, angry that you've helped and I'm tired Hoggle. Too tired to fight. He'll probably send me home the minute he lays eyes on me without even giving me a chance to apologize."

"Can't do that."

Her feet stopped their forward momentum, "Why not? I thought he was king and he could do anything he pleased. That's what you told me."

"I said with the help of the Triumvirate he could do just about anythin' he pleased. He has no power over you remember? He can't send you nowheres."

It certainly sounded wonderful. She'd have a chance to apologize, time to tell him that her magic was restoring his world, the world she helped to destroy and she could make her peace with him before she returned home. Sarah looked at Hoggle and a smile overtook her lips.

"Don't know what yer so happy about? Just because he can't send you home don't mean he won't try and kill ya or lock you away or somethin'. He may no longer be a magical fey in your presence, but he is still a man and he will still have all the capabilities any other man would when it comes to you."

That explained why he could so easily seduce her and why it could so readily effect her without it being a confession of his fey power over her. "Thanks Hoggle."

"Just don't want you lettin' your guard down and gettin' yourself into somethin' I can't help you get out of is all."

"But he'll see all the good I've done the Labyrinth, done the Underground..."

"And do you think he'll want to send you away when he realizes that it's your magic what's restored all of it?" Hoggle interrupted. "He asks the Triumvirate to send you back Aboveground and this place is a shambles again in a month. Keeping you here is his only guarantee that won't happen."

"I'm sure there's another way?" She seemed almost cavalier about it, as if there were always options to every scenario.

"You can't give him what he wants."

"What does he want?"

"You," the dwarf told her before he turned and continued on their journey. "All he's ever wanted was you."

Remaining motionless, Sarah stood open mouthed and watched Hoggle head further and further away from her. Suddenly the whole maze seemed to spread out and she felt small and insignificant. Ideas flooded her mind from all sorts of angles, down all sorts of venues and she couldn't clear her mind, not even enough to ask Hoggle to wait. The songs of the birds overhead faded and the light seemed to fade very quickly until everything was dark.

It wasn't long afterwards that Hoggle had found the door that led to the only remaining length of maze to reach the Goblin City. A black onyx door polished to unbelievable smoothness so that it almost looked like glass marked its entrance. Only now there was no door. No mirrored surface that reflected back the images before it. Only a frame. A gold frame open with a dead end just a few steps inside. On the ground around his feet were shards of what had once been the door. Some pieces were large, others mere slivers of glass. That's when he realized that Sarah was no where to be seen. Quick as his stout legs could carry him he ran back to find her passed out where he had turned his back to her and confessed Jareth's desires. Gently he knelt and cradled her head in his lap. "Forgive me," he said fiddling in her backpack for the water bottle and emptying almost half of it in her face.

Sarah sputtered back to life spitting the water in all directions, shocked at what was going on. "Oh don't tell me I fainted again," her hands wiped at her eyes and face. "I don't understand why I keep doing that."

"I think I do," Hoggle told her. "If you're okay to walk, I can show you."

She struggled to her feet and brushed herself off. "I'm fine."

Hoggle still stayed close by, just in case she were to relapse. "The door is just up ahead, but it's been smashed to pieces. Your fey magic must have sensed it and tried to give you a bit of a rest before we got there."

'Really,' Sarah thought. She'd have put her money on her knees giving out at the very idea of Jareth wanting her, but whatever. Hoggle knew more about this magic thing than she thought she ever would. Step by step Sarah had to force her feet to move, she felt incredibly weak, moreso than she had on her entire journey thus far. By the time she reached the door she had to sit. There was a small piece of ground where no shards were lying about. Her legs folded beneath her and instinctively she reached for one of the pieces of onyx.

Much as she thought she never would, she was getting used to the sudden headaches that accompanied the visions. Images swam around in her head and it was difficult to focus. It took a great deal of concentration for her to make out Jareth raging and pacing back and forth in what appeared to be the throne room of his castle. He wore a long sword at his side, something Sarah had never seen him do before. Storming out the castle doors and down the streets of the Goblin City his sights set on the Labyrinth. Before long he reached the onyx door. A moment's clarity came over him and it seemed as if he might turn and walk away, but then he drew the sword and with a guttural, low and pain filled cry, the kind a wounded animal lets out, Jareth rose the iron blade and struck through the door sending an array of shards splintering to the ground. For a brief second, Sarah's magic took her inside his mind and she could hear him thinking, 'They can take away my power over mortals, but the Labyrinth is still mine. I may no longer be able to fight them, but I can still ensure they won't succeed.'

Aware that what she held was quite fragile, she gently placed the onyx shard back on the ground. Hoggle was watching from not far away, most impressed with the control Sarah seemed to be developing over her mortal magic in such a place where it should have been getting weaker and fading away it was flourishing. He couldn't help but wonder what it was the Labyrinth needed her to see that kept her magic developing. "What is it Sarah?" Hoggle asked.

"Jareth. He smashed the door so that the mortals couldn't reach the castle to challenge him. The Triumvirate, he was thinking about the Triumvirate and how they had taken away his power over mortals, all of them."

The first shadows of night were falling around their feet forcing fear in Hoggle's heart. We've got to get you through this door Sarah, or you've got to return home with me where you'll be safe. We can't take chances that you would so easily survive another night in this Labyrinth."

"I'm not going back now. If I go back then when I return everything will switch itself around. I'm too close to go back now. And Ludo, Hoggle you've got to get Ludo out of that hole before nightfall."

"Well I ain't leavin' you here."

Sarah thought a moment about all she'd done to get to this spot, in the Labyrinth and in life. It had been good to see Sir Didymus and Ludo again and she had loved the warmth of Hoggle's family. If she failed now it would not have been a completely useless venture. Something in her thought of the new faces she'd encountered and the ones she had yet to meet. The good and the bad, the head made of stone and Mason. "Mason," she cried, "I need you."

The goblin appeared before her, trough in one hand, bucket of concrete in the other, "What in the name of the king?"

"Good idea," Hoggle smiled. She really was adapting well.

"How'd I manage that?" Mason was looking all around himself, "See here, now did you pluck me out of my repairs young lady."

Sarah smiled wide, happy to see him again and certain that he would help her. "So I did Mason, just more of my magic."

"You're probably the one whose been fixing all my holes. Why I went all they way out to the Labyrinth's edge this morning looking forward to a nice easy day and I wound up trudging back to the center to work on some real whoppers."

So Sarah's magic had worked it's way into the Labyrinth. Even if they didn't get this door fixed, Jareth would find her soon. Better she confront him rather than be found like some sort of prey she wagered. "Mason, I could really use your help with this door."

"What door?"

Hoggle pointed at the ground, "that one."

Mason's fingers loosened from the bucket handle and it fell to the ground in a thud. "Have you gone mad?"

"Mason, we must," Sarah pleaded.

"Well my lady, if we must, then I shall do my best to help you."

"Thank you," she turned to Hoggle. "And you, go and get Ludo back to his corner of this maze and then get home to your family. I've got Mason to look after me and then I have myself a king to find."

The dwarf stood, his hands on his hips, offended that he could be so easily replaced by someone who should have meant very little to her by comparison. He was about to blast her for taking him for granted when sense got the better of him making him realize that her short tongue was equal to the short period of daylight which remained available to her. "Just be careful," he huffed before leaving.

"I will," she told him as a reassuring smile came over her face. He glanced over his shoulder upon hearing her voice and saw the tears that held up in her eyes. It made his feet move faster for fear that he would mirror her if he stayed.

Four hands worked at the pieces with desperation as light got low. It was Sarah who handled most of the pieces, attempting to use her magic to help her guide them into their appropriate position. Mason worked the joint compound into the gaps between each piece. Before long there was a half a door beginning to take shape inside the frame. Seeing their goal taking shape only encouraged them to work harder. Just as it was becoming impossible to tell the difference between the pieces of onyx and the ground, the duo completed their second project together. Sarah smoothed her hands over the door and it seemed to fuse together into the rich black pond it had been in Hoggle's memory. She thanked Mason for his help and inhaled sharply as she grabbed the gold fixture which had appeared on the finished door.

"Are you sure, this is what you want to do Lady Sarah?"

"Sure as I can be." A charming smile lit her face, making her seem so self assured as if she were only going on a leisurely stroll. The door opened with relative ease and the dead end which only hours ago occupied the other side was now a corridor that stretched out before her.

Jareth sat in his bed chamber watching the moon rise. It had been another difficult visit to his mother's tomb and he was wondering why he continued to force himself to go there. His thoughts wandered to all the oddities of late. The daisy on his breakfast tray. The little fox who had seemed awfully jumpy, even more so than usual. And the dwarf. What possessed him to bring his child to the Labyrinth? "Fool!" he let out.

Removing his robe, he took a seat on the edge of his bed watching the moon rise in the sky. Something was wrong. He knew it because he felt tranquil for the first time in years. To most beings that was a welcome relief, to the Goblin King it was like smelling blood on the wind. A heavy sigh escaped him and he thought about settling in early. Slowly he rose and began to turn back the duvet. One of the goblins he sent out on a fact finding mission came running into his chamber unannounced. The king gave him a look of extreme annoyance.

"Your majesty, it's her!"

"Her who?"

"The girl who once ate the peach and forgot everything. She's made her way through the onyx door and is headed into the Goblin City."

"That's not possible!" A wave of his hand and his black silk pajamas were instantly replaced by Jareth's more typical attire. "I smashed that door!" It was as those words feel from his lips that he realized the bigger impossibility. "Sarah Williams could never return to this kingdom." The Goblin King stormed passed the goblin shoving him aside. He attempted to transport to where she was but her words kept him from doing that. Jareth grabbed a crossbow from the armory on his way out of the castle. "Suppose I'll just have to walk then." A crystal orb spun in his palm until it began to glow. Jareth gave it a soft toss in the air and it hovered just above his head lighting the area around and immediately in front of him as he left the castle doors and began charging through the Goblin City shoving or punting at anything that dared to get in his way.

Sarah could still see her hand before her face but just barely, as a kind voice offered her tired feet a welcome ride. She followed the voice until she was able to make out a friendly looking sway backed pony. "I'm sorry," she spoke softly to him stroking his mane, "was it you I heard talking."

"It was," the pony said.

It seemed strange to hear a pony speak to her, even here in the Labyrinth where little surprised her, this had managed to make her feel odd. For a long while she stared at the creature running her fingers through it's thick midnight black hair that mimicked her own.

"It's getting late," the pony reminded her. "I thought you might like a ride into the Goblin City where it would be safer for you to spend the night."

"Well that is the way I was headed. Is it all that much further?" she asked, puzzled because Hoggle indicated that once through the door it wasn't much longer.

"Much, much further than your weary mortal legs can carry you," the creature replied the, tone of his voice filled with concern.

Hoggle had told her not to take things for granted and back in her mortal world they had a saying, 'Don't look a gift horse in the mouth'. Never had one of the Aboveground colloquialisms she grew up with better fit a real life situation. "Do you think you could bear my weight?" After all this creature seemed not much larger than a Shetland variety pony and Sarah was slim, but tall and broad. She carried a bit of weight on her, perhaps more than she'd have cared to admit.

"You're a mouse!" the pony assured her.

"In that case, I accept, but please, what might I call you?"

"You Sarah, may call me Pooka."

'How did he know my name?' Sarah thought. 'I hadn't told him my name.' Then again so many creatures knew of her in the Underground that it shouldn't have been surprising. "Thank you Pooka," she said gratefully as she situated herself on the pony's back.

"Hold tight," he growled

Like a lightning bolt the equine began to dart through the remaining maze, Sarah couldn't tell which way they were headed, but a sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach told her it wasn't the right way. Pooka whinnied and it echoed in the black of the night. As the ebony skies enveloped her, Sarah began to feel as if she were floating in space. The sky. Pooka. The walls of the Labyrinth were all black, blending together in a dark sea she felt herself drowning in. What had she done now?


	14. Chapter 14

**CHAPTER FOURTEEN - TO SLEEP**

Whirling shadows were replaced by the consistent black of the inside of her eyelids as Sarah slammed them shut. It helped the dizziness stay at bay, but the motion sickness was still relatively prevalent. There was chilling silence all around her, nothing echoing in her ears but the wind and even that was so much like white noise that it was virtually silent. She tried to scream, to call for help, but the rushing gusts stole her voice. She wanted to cry but her eyes were dry. Mostly she wanted to be anywhere but where she was and beneath muffled pleas she prayed for someone to save her.

Lost in her own vacuum of regret, it was hard for Sarah to determine which she had become aware of first. Was it the sudden halt in the erratic path of the beast beneath her or the sound of something cutting through the black silence that surrounded her? Either way for a brief second she was thankful that things were still. Her easiness was quickly undone when without warning the Pooka rose high onto its back haunches transforming to a more human visage and sent her careening to the ground. Sarah's head crashed against the stone wall. A few times she was able to blink her eyes, hazily making out the figure of a tall man who wore little more than a loin cloth and bore the head of a beast with enormous horns to either side. His face was gnarled in a grimace of suffering, the source of which Sarah assumed was the arrow which stuck in his side. Blood from the wound ran down the length of him and onto the loin cloth. The Pooka turned on her and began a slow approach. She was too weak to try crawling away. What she really wanted to do was close her eyes. It was the first she'd seen of anything since night fell in the Labyrinth, but she wanted to shut her eyes anyway and dream this terrible nightmare away. The pain in her head grew more intense, but what little medical knowledge she had reminded the mortal that sleeping after a concussion was never a good idea and she struggled to stay alert.

In seconds another form had come to join the looming beast. He wore a black coat that blended him into the night but it was his blonde hair that made him known, lit by the glow of a bobbing crystal. 'Thank God,' Sarah said to herself thinking that the orb must have been what was enabling her to see and not the strange golden halo the head injury seemed to surround everything with. Jareth stood sure of himself a crossbow steadied in his left hand. He didn't need to say a word, his presence was enough to fill the Pooka with fear and make him check over his shoulder.

"Your majesty?" he managed a little shaken.

"Yes Pooka."

"It was you? You who shot me?"

"So it was."

"But your majesty, I was just about to take this mortal to the mire. Did you not smell her in your realm? She reeks of the Aboveground." The beast spoke gruffly, disgust garnishing his words.

"The mortal is mine," the king spoke with a confidence, an authority which made Sarah feel safe.

"Yes," the Pooka hissed. "I see. Tell me your highness, what will we do with her? What have you in mind for this retched little human?" The beast came toward her again, slowly and methodically as if she were to be his prey.

"Back away." Jareth's words were deep and calm.

The Pooka snarled at him, "Have you gone soft?" Lowering his horns he drew back his head preparing to charge at Sarah.

"Back away!"

Another snarl.

Sarah closed her eyes against her better judgment and tried to brace herself for the goring. She never heard the second arrow fire, not the gentle click of the trigger, nor the twang of the string, nor the hum as it cut through the illuminated corridor. She did not feel the Pooka fall to his knees and then tip forward landing with his head across her shins. Unconsciousness had ended Sarah's struggle as quickly as Jareth had ended the Pooka's life.

Folding a gloved hand around one of the beast's horns, Jareth easily lifted the creature's weight from Sarah's legs and tossed him aside. He stooped before her motionless body and for a moment drank her in. Even hurt she was beautiful. Blushed by the rushing wind and stained by her tears, the mortal's cheeks were red and swollen. Her hair fell wild around her face framing it like a pillow and her lips were closed together in perfect symmetry, but they were very pale and it shook Jareth from his hypnotic gaze. His hand rolled gracefully as he attempted to produce a crystal, but none came. He chanted a transportation spell in his mind, but they remained inside the Labyrinth's corridors. "Damn," he cursed remembering that his power over all mortals, especially Sarah was defunct. Quickly Jareth lifted her into his arms with as little effort as he had exerted when he cast the beast aside. Her head came to rest upon his shoulder. Blood stained his coat, a thick tacky gel that had started to clot the wound.

Stride by stride he would walk his mortal back to his castle if that was how it needed to be done. Through the corridors of his maze he made his way as he murmured disorganized and random thoughts. "How in the Underground did she even get here? Moron! I'd have been content to leave her rot Aboveground, but that wasn't good enough was it? Not generous enough? Thought she'd come back here and…and…and do what exactly?" He wished she were awake. She had a lot of explaining to do and the king was not a patient fey. "She already has everything of mine there is to give, does she want my kingdom now too! I'll be damned if I let that happen!" He looked down at her pale face, some of the skin already starting to bruise. Even with a healer she would feel great physical pain in the morning. "Humph!" Jareth snorted. "That's nothing compared to what she's done to me and my kingdom." He thought awhile about all she had done, denying him – twice, the damage it had inflicted on the kingdom, the great holes left within the Labyrinth and within its king. "So that's your game is it child?" In comparison to Jareth, Sarah was still very much a child. "You wish to see the Goblin King once more so that you might twist your serpentine blade another time. I'm afraid I cannot allow that."

They had reached the onyx door, the one Jareth had smashed himself when he last returned from the Aboveground. The king met the mismatched eyes of his reflection in the polished finish. "Why are you doing this?" he asked the mirror image. He thought about the Shadow King, his evil side, the one he was made to face when he was trying to escape the Labyrinth. Perhaps he had taken over a little more of Jareth than the Goblin King cared to admit. As his gloved fingers fed through the golden handle of the door he admitted to himself that he was not the same fey who would have carried her off to heal and seduce her, not the same fey whose heart jumped to see her back in the Labyrinth. That fey was locked deep inside him now. It had to be. Everyone was right, he needed to move on and that was the only way. "She needs to answer for what she's done." Jareth's voice was low and husky, the bitterness of it stunk in the air that held his words. More than the Labyrinth had changed.

Goblins plagued him as the king made his way through their city. Jareth shouted at them and they cowered in the shadows where the orb could not light. The heal of a leather boot kicked against the castle door, flinging it open. He marched inside. Sarah's body had yet to stir in the time it had taken them to reach Jareth's domicile. Her arms and legs shook a bit as he ran up the stairs, but it was involuntary on her part. Halfway up the semicircular stairwell the king began to call for Arulan.

Early morning hours were not the elf's best. "Yes, your majesty," she called through a yawn.

"Get the healer," he shouted to her as he burst through his chamber door.

"What's happened?" Arulan tied her robe close around her body and wiped at her tired eyes. From her vantage point she couldn't exactly tell if it was his highness who was hurt or if he yelled out to acquire assistance for another.

Jareth stood beside his bed, bending to lay Sarah's body gently in the softness of the velvet duvet. Good glory, he had dreamt about this, envisioned her lying in his bed the way she did now, only with less blood and more consciousness. Now was no time for letting those old emotions run away with him. "A Pooka. She took a ride from a Pooka. I shot the damned thing, it bucked up on two legs and sent her for quite a tumble," he explained to his servant, brushing away some of the hairs that had matted themselves to Sarah's face.

"Jareth? Is that?" Her question was open ended as it was meant be. Arulan was hoping that her king would deny it. Tell her this was some new mortal. A fey's eye could never hide the truth from another mythical thng. The dark hair, the way he looked at her unable to hide all of his longing completely, the gentle way he set her down. This was his mortal. Jareth met Arulan's questioning gaze with his own raised eyebrows. "That's Sarah isn't it?"

"Get the healer. She's been hurt."

"Jareth, even if I were to summon the healer, what good would it do her?" Arulan was at his side her hands resting gently on his arm in an attempt to be comforting as she continued to implore him. "She's mortal sire. Nothing here can save her."

The king shook loose of the elf's hold and removed his coat. Blood covered a large patch of the right lapel and shoulder, his mortal's blood. Her scent permeated the entire garment. Blonde locks parted at the mercy of the king's fingers, his mind torn between wanting rid of her and wanting her to be his once more. A memory stirred within him of another child, one he inadvertently let die years ago. Jareth couldn't do that, not again, not to her. Arulan was right though. Not even the most talented healer could save a mortal. There were boundaries that could not be crossed. Lines that in millennia no one could figure out how to erase. 'Damn,' he thought, 'there has to be something, anything I can do.' Sarah was repairing the Labyrinth, she possessed mortal magic, that had to count for something.

Arulan reached out to Sarah, her palm resting lightly on her forehead. The mortal's flesh was hot to the touch, around her mouth blisters were beginning to form. "Water Jareth, get her a glass of water."

Tossing the jacket aside he went into the bathroom and filled a glass with cold water. His hand jutted out toward the elf offering her the glass. Focused on doing what she could to dress the mortal's wounds, Arulan was unaware of is gesture. "Here," he said his tone short.

"For pity's sake Jareth, I'm busy. Help her drink the water."

Sarah's chin was already tilted upward so that Arulan could tend to her head injury. He looked from the glass to her face and back again as if he was somehow unable to figure out how to get her the water. "Why are you bothering to dress the wound?"

"We can't just let her die. We've got to try, right? I mean that is what you want isn't it? You want her to live because you still love her."

"I want her to live so that I can take her to the Triumvirate and so they can send her home." His long fingers cradled her chin as the glass met with her lips and Jareth emptied he water into her mouth.

"Say what you will, but I know better. Know you better, always have, probably better than you know yourself," Arulan told him.

It was condescending the way she dared to speak to him, full of presumption. Mesmerized by the way Sarah's lips rocked against the glass thirsty for the liquid inside, Jareth's mind drifted. He sighed audibly and closed his eyes. For a moment he wished he were made of glass, if for no other reason then to have those lips rock against him that way, but that was a moment that seemed centuries ago now. Realization drove his voice as he spoke softly to Arulan, "The mortal holds a piece of my soul."

Stopping her crude patch job the elf searched his majesty's face. "Were you intimate with this mortal?"

He did not reply. Jareth drew the glass from her lips unable to tolerate the agony any longer. Shaking hands made it obvious he was less than focused as he set the glass on the bedside table. "I said, the mortal holds a piece of my soul, now," his words slid between the spaces of his jagged teeth, "call for the healer."

"Mercy on the mythicals," Arulan muttered as she skittered off to get the healer.

"Still causing me grief after all these years, love," the king whispered when his servant was across the threshold and out of earshot. "We'll soon put an end to that, won't we?"

Moments later, Arulan returned, Jareth's personal healer in tow. The healer wore a purple hooded robe tied about the waist by a black braided rope from which several pouches hung. It was nearly impossible to see his face, but even if it had been easily visible, it would not have been impressive. His magic was in his hands which were currently resting on Sarah's forehead. "Ah," he began in a voice that deceived his persona for it was small and weak and too high for someone who had captured such great power, "I see you bring me to a mortal your highness."

Refusing to defend himself to someone who essentially worked for him, Jareth leaned against a far wall, coolly balanced on one leg, the other bent back so that the sole of his boot met the wall. "Do whatever it is you do healer and be on your way."

Seemingly undaunted by the king's apparent displeasure, the cloaked fey continued reciting his analysis of Sarah's condition, "My but what a strong will she has and rightly so for this is no ordinary mortal. I sense magic in this one, magic and the soul of a fey." He was too old to play games and his yellow eyes shone in the black cover of his cloak as he narrowed them at Jareth.

The Goblin King's patience had been tested enough for one day and he conveyed that when his eyes met the healer's, remaining locked with them as he crossed the room to stand beside the fey in the purple cloak. "It is my soul you sense, but you seem to be ignoring my anger. You have seen me many times over the years my friend, in health, in pain and near death, please do not tell me that you forget what it is like to see me angry."

Without question or comment, the healer returned to his work on Sarah. Jareth stepped back to give him room. Arulan stood back in the shadows still aghast over all that had transpired. "She's has quite the bump on her head, but I believe with the treatment I've given her, a few days rest and some medication," he dared once more to catch the eye of his king, "your mortal should make a full recovery."

Licking his parched lips Jareth sneered at him in a way that indicated his services were appreciated and yet no longer needed. It was Arulan who stepped up to his side and began to guide him out of the king's chambers. "Ah, not so fast, I must first mix the medicine."

"You may use my bath," waving his hand he opened the door wide.

"Thank you your grace."

Arulan accompanied the healer in case he would require any assistance. Jareth was alone with his mortal. Already the color was returning to her face. That was a positive sign, one that made him almost feel bad about getting her well before unleashing the Triumvirate on her. 'This is precious,' he thought. 'They'll berate her for entering our world, most probably punish her, send her home and forbid her to return and I won't have to soil so much as a glove in any of it.' "You've made it so easy for me," he hissed into her ear, "for a change."

And yet it wasn't easy at all, for all that he had done she was reaching the parts of him he had locked away and tried to deny. There was no way for him to completely destroy the part of his heart she held, no way for him to rip back the part of his soul he had shared with her. Soon she would recover, a couple of days the healer had told them, and then it would end. Once the Triumvirate had their say he would never see Sarah Williams again and then maybe, in time, enough of it, he would forget. Even if forgetting the sweet smell of her, the intoxication of her touch and the melody of her kiss seemed impossible to him now he had to believe it would eventually fade. Although in fifteen years it had only managed to grow. Jareth caught himself wondering how long ignorance took to come when longing seemed to arrive so quickly.

Arulan and the healer emerged from the king's bath to disrupt his reverie with instructions on how to administer the medication. The healer handed Jareth three pills. "Give her the white tab in one hour, when first she stirs she must take the green tab and lastly when she awakens the blue. Do you understand?"

The Goblin King shook his head and set the pills next to the glass of water on the night stand. 'White, green, blue,' he repeated to himself. The elf again led the healer to the door.

Ever the antagonist he queried the king before his departure, "You must feel very strongly for the girl to risk bringing her to the Underground?"

"I didn't bring her here."

"Then you must be very afraid."

Jareth turned to face the man who insisted on salting his wounds, "How do you suppose?"

"A mortal with powers enough to come Underground and here you are a king with no power over her. Once she's well again, should you need my services Jareth, you know where to find me." Despite being in the servitude of the Goblin King the healer laughed, a vengeful chuckle that echoed in the room even after he had left.

On a better day, one in which he hadn't been suffering from such an extreme amount of mental exhaustion he would have taught the insubordinate rat a lesson. Perhaps even seen to it that the mighty healer would soon require his own services, but today had been a long one and in truth, there was nothing he had said that was not fact. Perceptive as she had always been, Arulan rejoined her master's side. "There's nothing more you can do for her. Go and take a bath, wash her blood from your hair. I'll stay here to watch her."

Until she said something, he hadn't noticed the ends of his blond locks which had been stained orange with his mortal's life force. He closed his eyes and tried to suppress the nausea that rose in his stomach before meeting Arulan's stare. "You don't mind?" She shook her head side to side still wanting to ask him if he had slept with the girl, if that was how she had taken a part of his soul but knowing that this was not the time. Jareth made his way to the bathroom door, his boots sliding across the marble floor, his legs too weary to make them step. From inside the door frame the king looked back at his servant and then to his bed where the sleeping mortal lie, finally once more at Arulan and closed the door behind him.

Magic came in handy when one was overwhelmed with exhaustion. A mere flick of the wrist, a wave of the hand and clothes were shed without having to undo any of their bothersome fastenings. Water ran without bending to turn the faucet. Jareth slipped himself into the tub and sunk down to his chin. Sarah's blood, made liquid by the heat, pooled through his bath. It fascinated him as it wove crimson streams into the clear water, dancing before his eyes like wind blew desert sands or winter snows. Mortality had never much concerned him. The Triumvirate had eased him of that burden long ago when they took the only son of the Leanan Sidhe and christened him, turned him immortal, gave him his jagged teeth and lack of emotion, baptized him fey. 'What a chore it must be to be mortal,' he thought. It made him regret never knowing his father. Perhaps if he had known Ian, he could have been the generation that led the revolution towards accepting mortals. He could have been truly noble and not just Goblin King, nobility by title alone. Fantasies lulled him to dream.

Jareth's head swam with images of ones he had never met. Fey, goblins, mythicals of all sorts and in the center of the grove these breeds gathered around a high back wicker chair in which his mother sat, her arms filled with a well bundled child. The child smiled up at his mother, his mismatched eyes starring into her soul conveying all the love he could not yet speak of, all the appreciation for giving him life, all the admiration of beauty he did not understand. She gazed back at him, tears in her eyes, a smile on her lips as they moved forming words he could hear, not that the child understood them, but Jareth wished he could hear. Her long thin fingers stroked the child's velvet scalp and there was a feeling of warmth that filled them all. Jareth too. The crowd was humming with whispers. 'Isn't he stunning.' 'She's positively glowing.' From way in the back a man began to separate the gatherers. 'Excuse me. Pardon me. I'm very sorry,' he could be heard shouting. At last he broke through the inner circle and fell to his knees before his wife and child. In his hand a bouquet of wild flowers. He gave them to his wife and lifted the child from her arms. 'In my world we have a great book written about a little boy who never grew up and learned to live and love among the mythicals. It was written that, 'when the first baby laughed for the first time, the laugh broke into a thousand pieces and they all went skipping about, and that was the beginning of fairies.' The child in his arms laughed and the air about them began to fill with small fairies and sprites. The more he laughed, the more appeared, and some of them broke into giggles too. Suddenly it grew dark all around them and everyone grew silent. The man who held the child fell to his knees. The baby tumbled into his terrified mother's arms. Ian's face twisted in pain as he drew his last breath before tumbling forward to the ground. Leanan Sidhe handed the child to an elf, 'Take the child from me,' she instructed.

Jareth bolted up in the tub, the water now like ice around him. He reminded himself that it was but a dream. His father had never held him. None of them had ever shared a warm moment like the one he was envisioning in all of his life although part of him wished they had. What reward did mortality offer? It was difficult being left with the idea that love would only lead to pain and death, loss and grief, but such was the lot of the Goblin King. He reheated the water and summoned a scrub brush and some lye. Vigorously the king rubbed the bristles across his pale chest leaving behind wide red streaks. His skin welcomed the relief when he finished his bathing and sunk beneath the water so that he might wash his hair. Jareth looked out of place when his mane was low and close to his scalp. Sitting in the tub, slumped over, his face long with exhaustion and that hair matted over his ears, he looked like a sorrowful wet kitten who hadn't a home. Rising from the tub, he motioned his wrist, commanding his magic to dry and dress him.

Back in the bed chamber, dressed in his silk black pajamas he looked at the two woman he'd left almost an hour ago. Sarah was still under the spell of her very deep sleep. The healer had folded the duvet over her so that she was sandwiched inside it's velvety softness. Her fever had broken when he laid his hands on her and there was no sense allowing her to catch a chill that might impede the healing process. Arulan was bent awkwardly in a chair facing Sarah. She had intended to watch over her, but sleep had claimed her too, only she didn't have that same easy peacefulness about her that the mortal did, not in that position for sure. Jareth approached Arulan with great caution, not wanting to frighten her into a fall that would land him with two feeble women in his bed. The thought of which made his lips curl up slightly in a devilish way before the thought fled as quickly as it had taken root.

"Arulan," he whispered as a gloved hand shook her shoulder gently. Jareth's bed gloves were as black as his pajamas and likewise made of silk with a wool lining that made them seem a bit more substantial and less like the gloves a bride or a prom queen might wear.

The elf's eyes fluttered open. Immediately she began to profess, "I swear your highness, I was watching her."

"I know," he replied flatly. "Come now, my bath has given me renewed energy," he lied. "I shall watch the mortal until morning, in case she stirs and requires more of the tabs left by the healer. You go rest. Tomorrow I will very much need your assistance as I will need to tend to the regular business of the Labyrinth. No one else must know of the mortal's arrival." If only the king had known just how many were already well aware.

Arulan rose to her feet and moved to leave the room her legs shaky as any rag doll's and she didn't acknowledge Jareth at all. She would wait until she was more coherent to confront his majesty.

When Arulan had left them, the king went to the bedside table and picked up the white tablet the healer had left behind. He placed it delicately between her pink lips, like replacing a pearl inside a tender clam, and then poured the water as he massaged her throat to make certain that she had ingested the medication. It seemed a shame just then that she couldn't have done as he had asked her all that time ago. Fear him, love him, do as he said and circumstances would be so very different now. Jareth walked to the fireplace and ignited it. With a long sweep of his arm, he snatched a blanket from the back of the couch and settled into the chair Arulan had occupied earlier. He slid the throw around his shoulders and folded it over his knees. There was no comfort to be had from the chair, but the king couldn't keep an eye on her, couldn't watch for those first stirrings from the couch. For a minute he thought about sliding into the bed beside Sarah where it was soft and inviting. Better judgment took over and he accepted that things were as they were.

Watching his mortal proved to be quite the obstacle. He couldn't help but notice her undeniable attractiveness, her hair, her lips, her hands, everything about her that made him fill with desire. He reminded himself of her insatiable cruelty, her denial, her mockery, her selfishness. Jareth stayed the course nonetheless as hour after hour he searched the mortal for even the slightest twitch.

Just before dawn, when the Goblin King's eyes were growing heavy to the point of sometimes falling shut for an instant, Sarah's body arched, her head tipping back and a tiny moan came from deep in her throat. Jareth rose from his chair, every joint of his body stiff from his long night. Casting the blanket aside, he once more stood at the bedside table. For a moment he debated which pill he was to give her next, but with his blood recirculating the answer came easily. Black silk gloves circled the green tablet and brought it to Sarah's lips, once more tucking it inside. This time her mouth responded to what she felt, moving to accept the pill. Jareth quickly followed with the water for fear that her dryness might cause her to choke or her haze make her think to try chewing the tablet.

Thirst made Sarah gulp at the drink she was being offered until the glass was empty. It concerned the king a little as he wasn't sure how exactly a patient with such an injury should behave. For a series of long moments she continued to fidget. Jareth slid into the bed next to her tossing a protective arm over her thrashing body in an attempt to ensure her some sort of safety. Soon she grew still but for her arms which pushed back the velvet duvet until it covered the king. Sarah curled on her side, her closed eyes even with Jareth's, nothing between them but the thick, rich fabric. One arm stretched out between the bent arm that was supporting his head, her fingers absently attempting to stroke his golden hair. Her waist was still weighted by his protective arm. Sarah's eyes opened little more than a slit as her lips parted and she whispered, "Jareth."

It stunned him at first, to hear her call to him in such a desperate way. He couldn't help but to drink her in, the beautifully still perfection of her. The Goblin King slid from the bed the same way he'd slid in, tossing the duvet back over Sarah and tucking it in around her the way it had been earlier. With one last long look, Jareth made his way to the sunken sitting area. Fatigue and stiffness had left him entirely. Taking a seat on one of the large couches, he stared into the fire in eager anticipation of the sunrise for the first time in quite a long while.

Half past nine in the morning, Arulan reentered her majesty's chamber to find him admiring the flames. "Did you sleep with her?"

Jareth's head scanned the room on a slow pan before meeting his servant's eye, "What did you just ask me?"

"You heard me, did you sleep with her?"

"In her condition I think that would have been less than honorable, don't you?"

"Quit trying to quash the topic. You admit she holds a piece of your soul, Jareth. How did it happen?"

The king beckoned her closer. She sat facing him leaning in on her knees allowing her face to be basked by the fire light. "First I found her Aboveground. I followed her at a fair distance doing my best to remain undiscovered. Eventually she led me back to her to her apartment. Until I joined her on the elevator she wasn't the least bit suspicious. Cunning fey that I am I had disguised my appearance. I stalked her down the hall. As you might imagine she was beginning to get a bit nervous and so rather than walk she ran and when she did, the scarf she was wearing fell to the ground. I snatched it up." Jareth made a snatching motion with his hands. Arulan let out a gasp. The king smiled wickedly before continuing, "When she got to her door, she fumbled for her keys and that's when I really saw my chance. I looped the scarf around her neck," the Goblin King leaned into Arulan, his eyes wide and his teeth bared, "forced her inside her apartment. A mortal could never match my strength Arulan, it was all rather easy in hindsight. I didn't even bother with learning where her chambers were. Instead I had my way with her right there on the floor, just inside the entrance."

The elf closed her eyes and turned her head away a delicate hand raised to her mouth in shock.

"Do you really think me capable of such things?" He looked at her with a grave disappointment on his face.

She met his expression with a regretful one of her own. For a moment she had thought exactly that. More and more so these days she thought him capable of anything, still his tone made her feel ashamed for thinking it.

"You do."

"If you and she have never slept with one another, than how?"

"Since you insist on forcing me into proving my innocence, I will admit to nothing more than a kiss."

"Must have been some kiss then."

"Indeed it was," he confided. The pace of his heart quickened at the recollection of their lips joined together, hands moving in a fevered passion, listening to her speak his name and the way that she confessed to him she 'was no longer young'.

Arulan watched him, his heart's truth curling the corners of his lips, "You do still love the girl."

"I once loved the girl. Now it will bring me as much pleasure to see her leave as it once had to anticipate her arrival." Regardless of whether he believed that, it had to be true for he refused to open his heart again only to find Sarah would continue to refuse him.

"I apologize for what I thought before," the elf said weakly as she moved to sit beside her king. Her small hands embracing one of his. "It must be awful denying yourself true love."

Jareth tore his glove from her embrace, "I think we both know I don't much deny myself the company of women."

"Their company yes, but you've never exchanged souls with any other creature Jareth, not as long as I've known you. Not until this mortal." Her eyes looked at him with doubt and suspicion.

"We've not shared souls. There is nothing of her in me. Perhaps as I have gotten older, I have gotten careless Arulan. This is not a topic which I particularly wish to continue discussing." Irritation was not an emotion which remained well hidden in the king.

Slowly his servant moved to brush a few stray hairs behind her master's ear, "You poor thing. You look as though you haven't slept all night."

"I've gone days without sleep before, one night won't matter, but soon I must begin the regular business of this kingdom and I would very much appreciate your remaining behind to see that Sarah gets the last of her medication."

"Done." Arulan threw her arms around Jareth in a compassionate embrace, an exchange not normally engaged in. Yet even in all the awkwardness of it, the king did find comfort. Only with his servant was he finally able to admit to what he felt without having to utter one word. For a quick second he allowed the silk of his gloves to pat on her shoulders as he returned her affection.

"I don't mean to keep the two of you from whatever it is that you're doing or needs doing," the small voice barely louder than a whisper came from the enormous bed. Sarah had awakened and was struggling to sit up so she could lean against the massive headboard.

Once more Jareth thanked the Supreme One he had his magic, even if it had been reduced by the Triumvirate. A gentle rolling motion of the wrist and he was wearing his daily attire, his hair suddenly full and styled rather than limp and close to his scalp. He indicated to Arulan that she should go and care for her. "Perhaps his majesty would like to speak to the girl?"

"No, I believe I will let the two of you be."

"Please," Sarah spoke, but the dryness of being asleep so long had stolen her words.

Arulan rushed to her bedside, handing her the glass from the stand, but it was empty. "Pardon miss," she said rushing to the bath to refill the glass. Sarah just stared at Jareth unable to say a word. He returned her gaze as sullenly, only without the benefit of an alibi for his silence. "Here you are then. Drink up."

The weary mortal tried to sip the water, each drop provided more relief in her tightened throat. Sips gave way to gulps and those were giving her a terrible seasick feeling in her stomach. Sarah grimaced and handed the glass back to Arulan. Noticing the face she made Jareth moved closer, but only by a few steps before he wiped the concerned look from his eyes and mouth to replace it with one of indifference. "See that she gets the last pill." Once more he turned to leave.

"Don't go," Sarah asked of him. "I don't even remember how I got here. I was riding a horse and the next thing I knew..." Her voiced trailed off, "I don't know what happened, but I heard your voices and woke up here."

"You weren't riding a horse, you were riding a Pooka." Jareth revealed to her what he thought should have been rather obvious.

"A what?"

"Sarah, I haven't time to play explanatory games with you. I have a kingdom to run. This is my servant Arulan," the king indicated the elf at her bedside. "She will tend to whatever it is you need." He wrapped a gloved hand around the handle to the door and swung it open.

"Will I see you later?" 'Christ that sounded desperate,' Sarah thought as she slunk back down inside the folds of the duvet.

"I suppose we'll have to discuss a few things with one another at some point." Jareth never turned around to offer the reply, never even glanced back, just kept going on through the door as he intended until he was in the hall and had shut the large wooden partition behind him.

Behind the huge mahogany desk the king should have looked small; however, he didn't. Even surrounded by a ring of giants, Jareth would stand out, emitting confidence that supplemented his size. The quill in his hand tapped against the ledger, creating an ink blot in the margin as he stared off into space. His office was dim, the curtains closed, the furniture all dark. Occasionally he'd light the torches, if necessary, otherwise the dark suited him. Unable to keep his mind from wandering back to the mortal, the ordinary business of the Labyrinth fell to the wayside.

Every morning he made a journal entry for the previous day. There was a time when Jareth kept up with his entries, writing the same day events occurred, sometimes making multiple entries in the same day. Often he regretted that the diligence with which he once wrote had been broken. Yesterday, for example, a mythical had died by his own hand inside his Labyrinth, his realm had been invaded by a mortal and he had been kept waiting by all but one of the sixteen goblins he'd sent on the fact finding mission to the Underground's four sectors. It was a busy day indeed, yet his pen did not write. Other than to continue the rhythmic tapping, he did not stir at all.

The clock on the wall began to chime eleven. Having been practically catatonic since he entered the room, this was the first thing to shake Jareth from his trance. His day was wasting away, he decided as he looked at the filigree hands grazing the cream face of the slender grandfather clock. Suddenly visible to his blind eye, was a huge spot which had soaked through several pages of the king's open journal. A wave of his finger and the smudge disappeared. He hated when things were messy. Re-wetting the quill he began the entry for yesterday:

This night in the Labyrinth has been unlike any other. The day had begun ordinarily enough. No complaints from the Representatives, no orders from the Triumvirate. One of the goblins I sent out to spy on the sectors for me returned with some news. Mind you, he never made it to the Northeastern sector where he had been assigned with the rest of his troop, but instead fell asleep and became lost in the Labyrinth. At least he didn't come back empty handed. It would seem Mason is doing a fabulous job repairing the maze. Nearly all of the outer most layers have been restored. I find it remarkable that he has been able to work so quickly and take full credit for having the foresight to hire him to complete the job. One thing about Mason's work vexes me. It would seem he's taken to not only repairing the Labyrinth walls, but also trimming back the overgrowth and I suspect he may even be planting new vegetation. These were not on my list of commands. If he continues to waste resources this way, I will need to speak with him.

Along those lines, the onyx doorway leading to the Goblin City has been repaired. Much as I wish I could blame him, there is no conceivable way Mason could be responsible. The door was fey forged and only a fey could repair it. The minion who returned to me with news today swears that he knows nothing of the door or the thing responsible for reconstructing it. I can hope only that my other goblins return with news of the who and how, so that they may be dealt with appropriately.

This evening I took supper in the courtyard. It too is showing signs of growth, color and vitality. How odd? After all, it is now well into the sunny season and vegetation should begin to wane in anticipation of the cloudy season's arrival in just under one moon. While I did think in somewhat strange, I did not trouble myself with it.

Just before I was to retire, my goblin informant returned to my chambers. It would seem as though the mortal of some years ago, the one my kingdom has labeled the Legend, was somehow able to reenter this realm. It was extremely inconvenient having my powers usurped, not being able to transport to her location, having to walk like a common mortal. When at last I was able to locate her, the idiotic child had taken a ride from a Pooka. Thank the Supreme One I had the foresight to bring along a crossbow for defense. I fired a shot into his rib, attempting to halt him; however, he had no intention of departing until the mortal was dead. I then fired a second, iron tipped bolt into his heart. The result, death (such death to have occurred at 9:37 pm this day).

I was most sorrowful to have killed a creature of the Underground, but it is my duty as king to bring all mortals to the Triumvirate to be dealt with in order to protect this land from the savagery of the raids which plagued us long ago. Far be it for me to go against them for fear that they will deny me more than they already have. The mortal returned to my castle and my healer was called upon to treat her injuries, which were extensive. She remained unconscious most of the night. (Note: the mortal had awakened on the morning of which I transcribe this day's events, prior to my leaving for the office.) I must now, in compliance with the wishes of the Triumvirate, call upon them and request a meeting concerning the mortal, Sarah Williams, and her prompt return Aboveground.

So it is written in the history of the Labyrinth for this day,

King Jareth

He reread his entry to be sure that he had included all the day's events. Sure he had left out a few things, personal things, but historically it was accurate – enough. He closed the journal and shoved it aside, then returned the quill to its well. Leaning back in his chair, Jareth rested his head in the interlaced fingers of his hands and studied the ceiling. Fifteen years had past and yet it seemed like so much longer while she was gone. Now that she had returned, it seemed like only yesterday. Time was quite a tricky thing the king decided. From one of his book cases he summoned an old journal. It lay itself open on his desk, the ink had begun to fade, but it was still very legible as he skimmed what he had written:

...This night I have been summoned to the Aboveground by another mortal who is all too tired of some child. My crystal tells me that she is very beautiful with long hair and eyes of green. Can you imagine? I have consulted with a seer about the mortal and am told that I am destined for this one. I must agree. From the moment I was made aware of her, my heart has been weakened. I could not resist giving her a touch of magic, nothing very powerful, just the ability to have wishes granted. The seer tells me that she will both complete and completely unravel me. Sometimes I think she speaks in riddles for the effect. She tells me that I shall not have the child, as if I have ever been bested, but that I shall have the girl. I cannot understand how this could be and so I chalk it up to more of her doublespeak.

The child's name is Toby. He will make a particularly wise mythical. I think I'll suggest the Triumvirate christen him Jareth, after all, he has my eyes, well, one of them anyway. He seems quite contented here in my world, happy to sit on my lap or dance with the goblins. I think they amuse him. Toby whiles the hours away plying with crystals as though they were ordinary balls, meant for children's amusements. Yes, he will make a fine addition to the Underground...

...I have watched the mortal in her struggles through my maze. She is remarkably resilient, surviving the oubliette, continuing to hunt for me despite the warnings she has been given and the distractions I have made for her. It makes me respect her, for she is a formidable opponent, the best I have had in a while. As the seer warned, I do find myself growing smitten with the girl, I will have my chemist draw up a potion which I shall use to reveal her truest wishes. How will I get it to her? Of course! I will use the half wit dwarf who she seems to have taken a liking too...

...Glory to the Supreme One. She took the present I sent her. I am pleased to find her true wishes are somewhat deviant and far more mature than I would have guessed it to be for a mortal girl her age. As you might expect, I was able to satisfy her desires. I merely arranged for a masquerade. It was nothing really, just something I threw together. I had my fun eluding her at first, but when at last I was able to capture her in my arms, I must admit to a certain leaping in my chest. I feel things I have never felt before, suddenly I am generous, suddenly I am weak. I fear I am in love...

...My elation was not to last very long. She tore herself from my grip when the clock began to strike. I begged her with my eyes to stay, but she was erratic and wild, showing much more of her real age. Now her surroundings seemed to shock her. She tried to deny that it was what she had wanted. She shattered the illusion before I could so much as kiss her hand.

I trembled when we were alone together with the child in the unreality room. I tried to profess my love for her, but I fear she does not understand my words. I offered her everything, all her wants, her dreams, forever. My foolish heart sung to her with all its naive promises and yet, she chose the child. "Fear me," I begged. "Love me," I pleaded. "And I will be your slave," I promised. Then I watched in torment as the perfect lips I thirsted for spat out the hateful words, "You have no power over me." And so my kingdom sits in great disarray, its king fallen victim to the disease of love. Not even the most powerful healer is capable of curing this ache inside me. I curse myself as much as I curse her. She was but a child, I should have known better and yet, I had no choice...

...I've fired the seer. Whatever gift she had is obviously ruined now. I think I shall remain in this room forever or at least until I am able to forget this girl. I am no king worthy of being seen or heard. I shall never love. I shall never have an heir. If I did, I'd rescind the throne immediately, for without this girl, this beauty who has captured my heart, I am nothing. I wonder if a fey is capable of being entrapped one piece at a time. If so, I fear this mortal has begun collecting me.

So it is written in the history of the Labyrinth this day,

King Jareth

Jareth slammed the book closed and flung it across his office. Had he really written such things, in ink, where anyone with access to the logs could see? 'Love was a disease,' he thought, 'One from which he would never be cured, but one from which he refused to admit he suffered.'

Rather than spend anymore time getting in touch with his feelings, the Goblin King began to sort through his mail. There was a letter from Gandor requesting that Jareth intervene and work out some arrangement between he and Elbereth, the Representative of the Northwest sector, so that Gandor would be able to have fresh water for his people. The king released an exasperated sigh just as the fifteen missing spies burst into his office. "Can I help you?" he asked irritated at the interruption.

"Your majesty, we bring you the information which you seek," one of the group leaders said.

"Well then, by all means, come in." Jareth's tone had changed. From a corner of his desk he grabbed a notepad and drew his quill once more. Across the top page he drew two lines dividing the sheet into four fairly equal squares. "Who has traveled to the Northwest?"

The goblin stepped forward. "These lands are in a great drought, a heat wave ravages all who live there."

Jareth ripped Gandor's letter in two before discarding it. This was starting to be fun. "And Elebereth?"

"Elbereth is indifferent to you, your majesty, although he does not believe you're doing enough to help the sectors in your kingdom."

"Hmpf!" Jareth made a few notes on the pad. When he was through, he looked up and asked, "Which of you visited the Northeast?" Another goblin stepped forward. "Speak," the king commanded.

"This land is frigid. Waves break against the shore with enough force to break rocks and yet, Ranofyr remains unphased. He and his people thrive as much now as they ever have."

"Yes well, that always was a sector filled with a rather cheerful bunch of masochists." Again the king made a few notes. "Tiberon. Whom among you surveyed Tiberon's sector?"

A third goblin separated himself from the crowd. "'T'was I king."

"What news do you bring me?"

"These lands have been overgrown for some time your majesty. Word comes straight from the dwarf, Hoggle, who is also a resident in this sector. Yet, your majesty, when I visited, in great stealth, I saw clear cut paths jutting in every direction through the wood, the trees filled with singing birds, even a meadow of wild flowers. Rumor has it that Tiberon plans to court a woman, my liege, perhaps his carefree heart has broken the spell over his land."

Jareth leaned over his desk grabbing the goblin, "Do you think me mad?" The goblin stood petrified within the king's grasp shaking his head methodically from side to side. "Then what makes you think I would ever," his hand came crashing down upon the desk, "ever give a Representative that kind of power? You moron!" The king shoved him backward and the minion tumbled head over heals, until the wall broke his momentum.

"Of course your highness. Why would a most glorious king, such as you are, allow that to happen? I don't know what I was thinking. Forgive me sire?" he stammered holding his head.

"Kiss ass!" Jareth turned to face the last of the goblins who had an expedition, "I don't give a damn who Tiberon's courting, so unless you have something significant to tell me, leave!"

"Your majesty, Gandor's Southwestern sector was frozen over when I first arrived there; however, within two days, the temperature had increased enough to melt the ice which prevented water from flowing.

"Is that all?"

"No your majesty. Gandor also had dinner guests."

"You're jesting?" the king asked in mock enthusiasm. "Did they put their elbows on the table?" The goblin just stared, completely unaware that such a gesture was considered a social faux pas. "Get out!" cried the king after a moment, "Get out! Get out! Get out!"

The entourage fled the room as hastily as they had entered, each grumbling about Jareth as they left.

"What's wrong with him?"

"He's the one who asked us to go."

"He's upset because you mentioned Tiberon courting a woman."

"So?"

"So, I heard his mortal has returned."

"You think he'd be happy."

"She rejected him again."

"Again?"

"Again."

Their feet moved double time when they head the Goblin King shout, " I can still hear you!"

"Don't you mind him any miss," Arulan said as she handed the blue tablet to Sarah. "Drink this down."

She looked suspiciously at the pill in the elf's pale finger tips. "What is it?"

"Just the last of the medication the healer ordered for you."

"The healer?"

"Yes, the Underground's version of what you mortals call doctors." Arulan's explanation was met with a vacant stare. "Perhaps it's best if you just continue resting." She moved to wrap the blankets back around the girl.

Sarah rose her hands in protest, "Why would you need to call a doctor? Was I sick?"

"No miss, not exactly." Arulan was stuttering as she often did when her nerves got the better of her. "You see the Pooka you were riding, well miss, they are not kind creatures. His highness killed the beast and you took a nasty fall. The healer said it was a concussion, but you had a raging fever and we couldn't wake you."

"What are these Pooka creatures? One of Jareth's tricks?"

"No miss. They are a mythical with an agenda all their own. They whisk off unsuspecting travelers, usually very weary ones, and run them madly through the land ready to drop them off in a mire and leave them for dead. His highness saved you miss."

"How did I get here?"

"Miss?" Had Arulan not just described to her the situation.

"Please call me Sarah," she rose a hand to her head as she tried to comprehend what she had been through. "I was in the Labyrinth when I was with this creature. How did I get to the castle? I am in the castle aren't I?"

"Indeed. His majesty carried you here late last night after your accident."

"Carried me?"

"Yes miss. Sarah."

A new kind of confusion wrinkled her brow. "Odd that he would go through so much trouble to see to my safety and then not even speak to me this morning."

"His majesty had a very long night," Arulan was about to tell her that Jareth spent the entire night without sleep, watching over her. Instead, she came out with something that she was sure would have better pleased the king, "Not sleeping in his own bed was extremely uncomfortable for him."

"Oh," Sarah said suddenly feeling like a terrible bother. "Well I won't keep him from his bed another night." She swung her feet over the edge of the mattress and attempted to struggle to her feet. What forced her back into the bed was hard to say for the churning stomach and the spinning head were equally off balancing. Closing her eyes she waited for the nausea to pass and the room around her to come to a stand still.

Arulan rushed to her side, eager to serve the woman who held the heart and soul of her king. "You'll be going nowhere." She tucked Sarah back beneath the duvet.

Sighing she accepted the elf's mothering and in truth was content to be back in bed. "Is there some other place we could put me up then? I don't think I should be staying in Jareth's bed."

"His majesty wouldn't have it any other way. He wants for you to make a full recovery."

"Why, so he can ask me for his magic back?"

Somewhat shocked by her outburst Arulan couldn't help asking, "So you are aware you hold his highness' soul?"

Sarah nodded twice before the spinning sensation came rushing back to her temples, "Yes," she confirmed. "He tried to seduce me into giving back the magic he gave me years ago when I..." she grew sorrowful as she continued, "wished my brother away to him." Her eyes averted Arulan's look.

"You are not the first to call upon his majesty and I'm certain that you shall not be the last."

"Regardless, that is how I came to acquire this piece of his soul. I'm sure he'll want that back too and he can have it. I've had these awful visions ever since I got the damned thing."

Arulan knew the visions weren't from Jareth's magic. He was no seer. His parents were not seers. His magic, his soul were igniting the magic Jareth spoke to the healer of. Sarah had the power of sight. The Triumvirate would most definitely look more favorably upon the mortal because of it, for this Arulan was glad. "Poor dear."

Sarah smiled up at the blue eyes shining down on her. Arulan was a very beautiful elf. Her blonde hair was like spun gold. Her figure was slim. Sarah couldn't help remembering the embrace that she had watched Arulan share with Jareth. A nagging feeling tugged at her heart. Was that jealousy? 'Impossible,' she rationalized.

"You look as if you're growing pale again," Arulan noted. "Why don't I go and make some broth for you and then you can rest some more. Perhaps we'll get you bathed later this afternoon, before his highness returns." The elf couldn't resist nudging fate if it were possible. She didn't care what Jareth said, the right combination would unlock his stony heart and free the feeling he had for this woman.

"Thank you," Sarah replied. Once Arulan had left the room, she began sliding back down into the bed. She couldn't help but notice the ornate headboard. Her fingers traced the Celtic knots whose patterns were as random and chaotic as the Labyrinth. Plucking at the strings of the dream catcher, she recalled the similar item she found in the tomb of the Leanan Sidhe. Trailing down to the leather cords, Sarah spun the painted beads and stroked the soft white feathers that dangled from their edges. "Owl feathers," it dawned on her. Indeed, they were two snow white barn owl feathers. Sarah fell asleep with them laid softly in the palm of one hand while the fingers of her free hand gently ran over them, much like those same fingers had worked their way through Jareth's blonde locks when they were Aboveground. The sweet rhythm of her action lulled her into another sleep, this one filled with dreams.


	15. Chapter 15

**CHAPTER FIFTEEN - PERCHANCE TO DREAM**

"Sarah," she heard someone calling softly. "Sarah." She watched with curiosity as she stepped out of her body. Feeling the weight of the silver white ball gown hugging her, she eyed the form that remained in Jareth's bed in its common clothing. "Sarah," she heard once more. She spun around to face the direction the voice called from only to catch the eyes of the fey who leaned himself gracefully against the mantle surrounding the fire. One long finger pointed in her direction curled and beckoning her closer. Eyes wide, she mindlessly obeyed him, almost powerless to resist. The space between them grew smaller as he came forward to greet her in the open space behind the sitting area. One grey glove slid skillful around her waist while the other engulfed her tiny hand guiding her in strange circles her feet weren't accustomed to moving in. She hadn't meant to look down, letting him see she needed to concentrate on where she was shuffling her shoes. Jareth's soft leather glove brushed against her chin as he raised it up to capture her stare. The king was unwilling to share her attention. Grinning wickedly he continued spinning her about, his soothing voice singing in her ear causing the hair on her arms and the back of her neck to stand at attention.

"There's such a fooled heart, beating so fast in search of new dreams, a love that will last within your heart. I'll place the moon within your heart," he sang.

How she longed to let him fulfill these promises to her among other things. Sarah was lost in his eyes, hypnotized by the reflection of the flames within his enlarged pupils. The Goblin King had always had one enlarged eye she recalled, but in secret she admitted that seeing the other broaden excited her. In her world it was rumored that in addition to the waning of ambient light, observing something that one desired would evoke such a reaction. 'Desire me,' she thought.

"I'll paint you mornings of gold. I'll spin you Valentine evenings."

It wasn't long before his caroling lips found themselves caressing her throat. Velvet pillows dancing over her tingling skin, jagged teeth nipping at her ear, hot breath chasing away the shivers in her spine. When did she close her eyes? Sarah opened them to be sure she was still where her heart wished to be. The Goblin King's formal attire had been replaced by the silk pajamas she had seen him in this morning. Her ball gown too had vanished, giving way to a delicate lavender chemise. Made of silk, it kissed at the skin where Jareth's lips had yet to venture. The lace bodice obscured the details of her chest but by no means hid her shapely figure. Little could be hid at all beneath the delicate fabrics. When the king moved to hold her back some, eager to drink her in, impassioned to continue with his promises, Sarah turned her head away shyly. Jareth refused to let their gaze break for long.

"But I'll be there for you as the world falls down. Falling. Falling down. Falling in love."

His lips came crashing down on hers and she melted into his embrace. With a well choreographed sweep she was in his arms, her small hands gripping his neck, their eyes joined. Jareth carried her across the room and finally lay Sarah back on the bed, reuniting her soul with the body it left behind to come and dance with him. The king was leaning over her, one knee on the mattress. Sarah's lips parted in anticipation of another kiss.

"Sarah." It was a conglomeration of voices she heard in her head. The sweet lightness of her body suddenly gone. She felt heavy again plagued by the intermittent throbbing in her skull. "Sarah," Arulan called again.

'Damn,' she thought now painfully aware that she had returned to her body and more painfully aware that this body ached for a man her mind didn't want to love. Besides, she had pushed him away, more than once, what would he want with her now? In truth, she wished the elf had stayed away a bit longer. She wanted to follow the dream, see where it led. It may have been the concussion talking, but since she had woken up in Jareth's bed she couldn't stop imagining what it would be like to have him in it.

"Feeling better?"

Sarah nodded and smiled. 'Better than when?' her mind questioned. It was obvious that she was better than she had been twelve hours ago and worse than she had been twelve minutes ago. Stuck in some emotional limbo that made her want to hide away from everyone until things started making sense again. Fulfilling that request would be highly unlikely in the Underground where nothing was as it seemed and even less of it made sense.

For a minute, she stopped listening to the voices in her head and heard the growl of her stomach. From a tray on the bed side table she could smell something that was making her very hungry. Arulan had brought her a bowl of broth and was positioning the tray over Sarah's lap as the weary mortal struggled to rise. Sipping at the chicken broth did seem to be easing her throat and it wasn't upsetting her tummy any. No sense taking any chances, so she was careful not to make the same mistake she had with the water by gulping it down. "I never thought plain old chicken broth could taste so good."

"Glad you like it," Arulan told her. "It was all we had left in the kitchen after lunch was served."

"Lunch has been served, what time is it?"

"Nearly two."

"Have I slept that long?"

Arulan sat beside her on the bed and reached to smooth her hair. "However long you've been asleep Sarah, you're body needed the recovering. Why don't you finish your broth and I'll run you a hot bath. Would you like to get cleaned up?"

She nodded as she kept sipping at the broth. Karen had never mothered her the way this delicate elf was now, never attempted to comfort her, soothe her. Not even her real mother had been so tender with her, not that she could recall anyway. The thought of just how much she had missed out on made her eyes tear. She tried to bat away the forming droplets, but one escaped and slipped down her cheek.

Jareth's servant noticed immediately, "Did I say something to upset you?"

"No Arulan. I was just...thinking of my family."

"You must miss them very much. I'm sure you're in a hurry to get home to them," even if she spoke the words, she feared them being true.

Nodding and smiling once again, Sarah thought, 'I've missed them as long as I've had them, even when they were sharing the same roof as me, and as for hurrying home to them, there wasn't anything to hurry home to.' "Arulan, do you have any children?

"None of my own dear," she tidied things about the bed as she answered in order to avoid looking at the mortal. "There are those I think of as my children though." She tucked the blankets around Sarah's legs and patted her knees affectionately. "That's enough for me," after a short silence.

Arulan said softly, "I'll leave you to your thoughts dear."

'God no, not that,' Sarah screamed inside as the elf left for the bath. Mechanically she finished the broth. It had been days since he she showered and she was pleased to hear the water running in the next room, although Sarah couldn't help wondering if a cold shower might not be more appropriate. She didn't know what it was that was encouraging her to think of the Goblin King in this new light. Had he really gotten to her so badly with a few long kisses and well placed caresses? Was she that easily manipulated? It wasn't as if this was the man who had taken away her virginity. That was Jason. Prom night, senior year, back seat of 1988 Pontiac Grand Am. Jareth had taken something more personal and more powerful than virginity had become in the jaded world in which Sarah had grown up.

He took her to that masquerade, the one with the silver dress from her dream where the people who danced around her were so mature, so graceful and rutting in debauchery. Jareth had stolen her immaturity, forced her to admit that those wild, innocent eyes weren't seeing anything they didn't already know about. In fact, they weren't watching anything that Sarah hadn't already been curious about. Looking back now, she would have done things so much differently, if only she'd been a few years older, better able to articulate those feelings that children don't think they should have. Playing the games, donning the masks, she would have made herself as elusive as the Goblin King had been. Ducking and disappearing from sight, forcing him to hunt her down. Catching his attention from the corner of her eye as she swayed between two of the masked men at the ball, neither able to draw their attention from her while she saw only the king.

That's what it was. The fey hadn't introduced her to sex, which was frankly a huge discomfort and a bigger disappointment. He hadn't given her that first earth shattering orgasm. She had done that on her own. More greatly anticipated than those things, Jareth had awakened her sexuality which made her crave all those other things, made her crave him now. "Damn you," she whispered when she noticed her face had grown blush.

Arulan came trudging into her daydreams as she had become proficient at doing during the mortal's short stay. "The bath is ready if you care for me to help you."

Frustrated Sarah threw back the covers and placed her feet on the floor. So far, so good, no spinning walls. More slowly than the first time she forced herself to stand. Her stomach wasn't practicing acrobatics, which was pleasing her very much. Arulan had come forward slipping in under one of Sarah's arms to help her walk. At first, she didn't think it was necessary, but the first steps forward proved her wrong. There was no sensation to compare it to really, the way her legs seemed to wobble. If she had been wearing red and white stripes she could have passed for Toby when he made his stay in the Underground. Two uncoordinated stalks flopped over one another trying to get Sarah to the bath. They adamantly refused to obey the messages her brain sent them. Jareth's servant grunted as she attempted to steady the woman. "Stop fighting it," Arulan instructed her. "Your muscles are weak. Lean on me, let me lead you. In time, it will all return. Patience."

'Patience? Are you serious? How the hell long is this going to take?" is what she wanted to say, but instead she sighed giving in to her gummy legs and leaden feet, allowing the elf to do most of the work that brought them closer to the bath.

Even the sight of the steaming water was making her feel more human. Arulan pulled a chair over so that Sarah could sit to undress herself. It had become obvious that she was not yet ready for long term standing. Sarah readily accepted the seat. "What, you're going to watch me?"

"Sarah, please, I have bathed others before. I am a servant you know." Arulan folded towels and left them on a tray beside the tub. Soaps and shampoos came next. Lastly, she poured lavender oil into the hot water. When she returned to Sarah's side, she was still fully clothed. "If it makes you that uncomfortable, I can step outside."

"No, it's just the concussion talking," she smiled. "I'm sure your very professional." What she was really trying to decide was whether or not those 'others' she had bathed included Jareth. Sarah let out a small moan and began disrobing. She didn't feel strong enough to stand in order to remove her jeans so she wiggled out of them while still seated. Surrounded by all the marble and ceramic which comprised the bath, Sarah shivered in just her undergarments. She fumbled with the clasp of her bra.

"Do you require assistance?" Arulan offered.

Sarah nodded.

The elf stepped forward to help remove the undergarment, "My but you mortals do wear strange undergarments."

"What's so strange about them?"

"They're so small. It's no wonder you fumble with them."

"What do they wear here?"

Jareth's servant thought a moment and replied, "I suppose it's different for each species. Some of the fey women will use corsets or bodices in combination with bloomers or crinoline layers. Others choose little more than a slip." Unsure why Sarah was pursuing this question Arulan asked, "Do you need me to have the seamstress make you up a few things.?"

"No, thank you. I brought along a few days worth of clothes." Sarah stood to remove her underwear, but found that bending to do so brought back the spinning.

Arulan insisted she straighten up again then picked up where the mortal had left off. "I'll have these taken to the laundry for cleaning," she told her as she gathered up Sarah's clothes.

"Thank you." Having a servant wasn't so bad after all. She made the first few steps toward the tub when she realized she needed to go to the bathroom. "If you please, might you tell me where the commode is?"

"The water closet is behind that curtain," Arulan pointed. "Do you need a hand?"

"No, no, I can make it." Sarah tried to force herself. Not that she wasn't grateful for Arulan's being so patient, she was. Sarah was naked and the idea of another woman touching her was a little disconcerting. The first few steps weren't so bad, but there was a raised step into what Arulan referred to as the water closet. It tripped her up a bit. The elf was at her side, gingerly taking her hand and shoulder to guide her back to a standing position. Sarah was appreciative of the way Jareth's servant held her, careful to place her hands only where it was appropriate.

"Maybe I've gotten you out of bed too soon, Sarah. Perhaps a bath was a bad idea."

"No, I'd like to get cleaned up. I know it will make me feel better." Besides, going back to bed meant more chances to dream and Sarah wasn't ready for that.

"Have it your way." When she was through in the water closet, Arulan helped her into the tub. "I'll leave you to your privacy then. There's a flute on the table, blow it when you're through and I'll come help you out."

"Thank you." She seemed to be saying that perpetually. No matter she decided. It couldn't hurt to be courteous. Sarah sunk in the tub up to her neck, letting her arms drape over the sides. It was the best she'd felt in as long as she could remember. Hot water eased her muscles while the lavender scent filled her nose. 'This is fabulous,' she thought.

Sarah looked at the tray Arulan left beside the tub. There were three soaps, each smelled delightful. She decided to use the last one since it was already in her hand. Working her hands into a rich lather, she washed her face and neck. The brush scrubbing at her back was complete renewal. But it was when the brush began massaging her legs that Sarah tossed back her head and let out a moan of pleasure, until she noticed that her legs needed shaving. There was a older model razor on the tray, the kind that required an actual blade to be fastened into place. It wasn't the pink plastic Bic disposables she was used to, but then how hard could it be? Starting with her armpits, where the curves were less treacherous, she managed just fine. Carefully, she dragged the new blade over the length of her leg, repeating the motion until it was bare. When Sarah finished the other leg she ladled water over it rinsing away the severed hair. Lavender oil made the water thick, almost like a lotion and Sarah couldn't resist massaging it into her dry skin. Starting with her feet, concentrating on her calves and finally her thighs.

Everything around her was Jareth's. Sarah was suddenly quite aware of that. This was his tub she was soaking in. Odd sensations filled her as she thought about sitting naked where the Goblin King had done the same. Recognition was replaced with remembering as her mind wandered back to her morning's dream. She was as weightless now as she felt in his majesty's arms. Her vivid imagination picked up where Arulan's greeting had forced her dream to leave off. This time Jareth kept leaning over her until her frame could feel the weight of him. His gloves pushed back her hair, mismatched eyes holding her stare. Jareth's mouth covering her own. Sarah imagined his knee working to part her thighs and soon her temperature was greater than that of the water around her. The hand that had been contentedly rubbing her thigh and begun fondling the area that lay between them. For a minute she contemplated giving into her body's desires, hoping that momentary satisfaction would put an end to the torment. 'It's not entirely a bad idea,' she thought. She even dared to wonder if Jareth had engaged in such activities, even within this very room. Quickly Sarah withdrew her hand from the water, splashing herself in the face with the water that had taken on a bit of a chill. Cold spray was precisely what she needed to bring her out of the fantasy.

Doing her best to compose herself, Sarah smoothed back her wet hair. She couldn't help feeling rude as she reached for the flute, but she was so uncomfortable in the chilling water without her thoughts to distract her. She blew a short quick note. It made a very sour single tone.

Arulan came almost immediately with a white terry robe in hand. "Ready Sarah?"

"Yes please."

The mortal started to rise from the tub causing Arulan to call out. "I'll help you. I don't want you falling again."

Sarah groaned, very displeased at being treated like an invalid even though she admittedly felt too week to do this alone. She slid her arms into the terry robe. It was plush and felt heated as if it had been just taken from the dryer. Arulan helped her back to the bed. Sarah sat with her legs hanging over the edge refusing to lie back.

"You need to get some rest," Arulan told her as she began to lay out a lavender chemise, made of silk with a lace bodice together with a matching robe and a pair of slippers which she tucked neatly under the edge of the bed.

Gasping Sarah recalled where she had seen that garment before. "Where did you get those?"

"Oh, I hope you don't mind. I had the seamstress make you up a few things that I couldn't help noticing you didn't have." Arulan studied the shocked expression on Sarah's face immediately mistaking it for upset. "You don't like it?" she asked. "I could have her make you something else? Something that would cover more? Cover less? Another color perhaps?" None of the suggestions Arulan made seemed to change the look upon the mortal's face.

At some length, Sarah met Arulan's worried gaze, "No, that won't be necessary. I like that one. I like it very much."

Sleep had claimed her once again. Arulan had left hours ago to tend to her other duties around the castle leaving Sarah to switch into her bed clothes, but before she could lavish herself in the rich silk of the chemise, sleep had come. The mortal lie a top the duvet, still clad in the terry robe. Her rest had been dream free and the foggy feeling of waking up was making it's appearance. When she first opened her eyes she was disappointed. Yawning and stretching she wondered why no dreams had come to her. Looking down, her eyes were greeted by the white terry robe which she had fallen to sleep in. Her head still felt heavy. Too heavy to get up and change into the nightgown that Arulan had left for her. In fact, she would have preferred to roll over and go back to bed, but it was no use. She was wide awake. Frustrated she turned onto her side and repositioned the robe so that she was covered. Her hand swept over the fabric of the pillow which held her heavy head. She pulled back the duvet and marveled at the feel of sheets. Silks and velvets were everywhere in Jareth's decorating and it puzzled her that such a gruff and miserable fey would adorn himself with these kinds of sensory stimulating, tangible luxuries. Puzzled and intrigued.

Deciding that she would offer herself to sleep once more, Sarah crawled beneath the duvet where she could allow her freshly shaven legs to create a soothing friction against the silk sheets. "Maybe I'll never leave," she said out loud and then quickly glanced around to be sure that her meaningless utterance hadn't been overheard. Sarah had lain herself at the alter of sleep, but her offering had been denied. She tossed and turned suddenly very uncomfortable in what was perhaps the most perfect bed she had ever slept in. The knot of her robe had come undone which was allowing the cool silk to touch the warm skin of her right side. Sarah couldn't resist contemplating Jareth naked in his bed taking the same comfort in the cool silk that she was now.

The more she thought on it, the more elusive sleep became, increasing her frustrations. It was bringing back those headaches from this morning she hoped had gone. Throbbing pains in her temple gave way to a sudden stabbing and Sarah winced in pain. Wide awake, images began to dance beneath her eye lids. Jareth's room, a woman's laughter as she coyly positioned herself atop the bed wearing little more than a slip. Hadn't Arulan said something about that? Maybe it was a glitch in her vision, but the woman's face was obscured. Perhaps Sarah just did not want to see the face of the woman who writhed about the king sized mattress doing her best to draw the attention of the Goblin King. Sarah looked around her vision for Jareth. She found him at a corner table to the left of the fireplace which she was just now noticing. A silver tray held some glasses and a few decanters. The fey poured a drink into one of the glasses and downed it quickly. He removed his coat and boots, then tightened his gloves by pulling them up his long fingers and tugging at the wrists.

Sarah watched intently as he crossed the room, moving herself around the vision so that she could sit in the point of view of the woman Jareth walked toward. Her heart skipped a beat as those long and slender legs made their determined strides. The woman must have shuffled over to the far side of the bed because Jareth was sliding in beneath the duvet. With a wave of his hand his clothes were gone, but for two black soft leather gloves which remained ever present. Sarah looked at his pale chest, the candlelight dancing off it on a a frozen pond. Her hands reached out for thin air. Hoggle had told her she could control the vision, but right now it felt just the opposite. 'How modest,' Sarah thought given his majesty was typically so bold and self assured. A feminine hand began to caress the king and Sarah wanted to make it stop, she didn't want to see this. Her heart had known that he had other woman before her visit 15 years ago. Logically he had them since, but to know and to watch were very different things. Cruelly the vision continued.

Jareth grabbed the woman fiercely, pulling her to him, dipping his head immediately to the crook of her neck and beginning his assault on her senses. The woman threw her head back. Sarah could feel it, the way she had no choice but to surrender to this fey, make things easier for him. The mortal also couldn't help but notice that this was not the same way he had been with her. It was rougher, less hesitant than he had been with her. It made Sarah envious of this woman, jealous that he wanted her enough to throw caution away. Jareth's hand moved to lower the straps her slip, his lips moving down her neck over her chest to her already hardened nipple. She arched into him. Sarah arched too as she felt this woman's tension mounting. Though no love was lost between the two of them, these strangers shared an intimate similarity, they both wanted the Goblin King.

Intently Sarah stared at the face of the king, his eyes closed as he positioned himself above the woman in his bed. She lie back trying to catch her breath brazenly putting herself into the vision as if she were the woman about to be taken by Jareth. Sarah didn't know enough about the species of the Underground to know exactly what breed the woman was. It was a tiny woman, small and delicate, definitely not mortal. Sarah could sense her magic along with the sensation of Jareth's gloves over her thighs, hiking up that slip. The woman cried out the king's name. Sarah whispered along with her. "You mustn't speak," he told her plainly, "it disturbs my concentration."

Fey had to concentrate? The mortal found it odd, but tossed the comment aside for she had better things to focus on at the moment. Sarah was enthralled with the very look of him. The distinct features of his face. The hills that ran along his biceps as he held himself over his lover. Her hands began their absent straying, reaching out for a body who wasn't truly there and she cursed the woman whose life she was viewing for not wanting to do the same so that she might at least vicariously know the sensation.

Jareth's face was still inches from hers even if his body was somewhere else. It was better than any fantasy she'd had with Christian. Sarah surrendered to the vision suddenly ignorant of the woman whose place she had taken. She watched as Jareth pleasured his lover bringing her to the edge of ecstasy several times before succumbing to his own. Sarah was suddenly very satisfied, although her body ached to have the feel of him beside her, at least the carnal urges she'd been suppressing had been fulfilled.

'Amazing,' she realized as she lie there still at the mercy of her vision. His skills as a lover had been quite good, better than she had expected they might have been. He rose from the bed, immediately drawing a robe around his body and heading to his bath. The woman in the bed remained behind until his door was closed. Then she dressed and left. Sarah wondered what sort of relationship it was that could one minute be so passionate and the next so cold. The vision ended leaving Sarah very confused.

Before she could stop asking herself a series of questions, all of which began with why, the king returned, throwing open his bedroom door and barreling inside as if it were any other day. Sarah moved quickly to cover herself and smooth her wild hair. "Why don't you knock before barging into a room?" she asked angrily.

"Because it is still my room, is it not?"

She despised having a question answered by another question and spat back, "Yes, yes it is, but you know I'm in here and what if I had been in some state of undress?"

Jareth undid the buttons of his coat and tossed it over the back of the settee. Purposeful steps brought him to the bedside, his eyes stealing a peek at the crevasse of Sarah's breastbone revealed by her partially open robe. Trying his best to not show his appreciation for her form, the king met her eyes and narrowing his brow, as monotone as he could manage he said, "Surely you give yourself a great deal of credit, Sarah. You may do and say as you please, you have no power over me." With this he disappeared into the bath slamming the door closed behind him. He said it so casually.

Words were sometimes the greatest weapons one could wield. Sarah knew that as she sat in the king's bed, her own statement spat back at her. Tears came to her eyes. It had been one thing, needing to say them all those years ago when it was Toby she needed to rescue, but it had become quite another to hear them being said. Tightening the robe around herself, Sarah emerged from the warmth of the bed. Her feet fit easily in the slippers Arulan had left behind. Stomach no longer churning and head steady she marched to the door of the bath, balled her hand into a fist and began to pound upon the door with all her might.

"Can a fey not get one moment's piece in his own chamber!" Jareth shouted from inside.

"You listen to me Goblin King, I didn't ask to be brought back to your chamber. You made me a guest here. I expect you to treat me as such." Sarah's arms folded across her chest as she stood back feeling as if she had articulated herself quite well.

"You are no guest here."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Inside the bath, Jareth stood watching the door. He hadn't a need to use the bath at all, it was just better that he walk away from her, put some distance between the two of them until the part of him that wanted to kill her managed to outlast the part of him that wanted to kiss her. "You are my prisoner."

"Prisoner?"

"Yes. I saved you from the Pooka, captured you, and brought you back here as my prisoner."

"Captured me?"

"Yes, captured you."

"I was unconscious!"

"I didn't say it was a challenge to do so."

"So you could make me your prisoner?"

"Yes."

"Why bother saving me, then?"

Tired of her whining, Jareth threw open the door. "I couldn't very well kill you." He stepped around her, leaving her standing there stunned that he would be so vicious.

"Kill me?"

"What? I didn't do it!" he protested as he draped himself over the settee. Snapping his fingers, he ignited the fire.

"Why not just leave me for the Pooka then? Why not just let it drop me off some place? Maybe a nice oubliette where everyone could just forget about me."

"What did you just say?"

"You heard me!" Sarah, did her best to close in on in him, trying to intimidate him.

One long forefinger pointed at her, "Who told you about April?"

"Oh, so now you remember her."

The Goblin King leaned in on her, his hands grasping at the furniture attempting to keep them from tightening around her throat. "In case you forgot, I was trying to keep a kingdom together, a kingdom that some foolish little child had shattered with a few carelessly strung together words." Drawing back her hand she moved to strike him. As he had done before he smoothly caught her by the wrist. "I strongly caution you against doing that."

For a minute, Sarah forgot that he had just been talking about killing her. She remembered that night at her apartment, the way he'd grabbed her like he had just now. The tension in her arm relaxed and Jareth let her go. "So why did you save me, then?"

"I had to," his tone softened. "I couldn't just let you die."

Feeling faint once more she kneeled beside the chair. Leaning into him, Sarah did her best to pout. She meant to look into his eyes, but focused on his mouth instead. "You couldn't?" her fingers trailed over his shoulder. "Why?"

Jareth did his best to ignore the creamy beige thigh that was showing from beneath her robe. He lifted his glove to her cheek. "No I couldn't," his eyes peering deeply into Sarah's. "You see I have no power over you which means that if I want to see you punished I needed to keep you alive long enough to get you to the Triumvirate." He patted the side of her face and leaned back, content that he had gotten well under her skin.

"You're taking me to the Triumvirate?"

"Of course I am."

"And if I refuse to go?"

"There's nothing for you to refuse, you are my prisoner."

"I am not!" Sarah drew her knees to her chest and pouted. "I can leave any time I please."

"Really?" Palm supporting his chin, the king drummed his fingers over his lips. "Where will you go?"

"Back to Hoggle's."

"So the dwarf is the one who helped you stalk me?"

"I'm not stalking you." She had intended to apologize, but now that he was acting like such an ass, he could just forget about it.

"How did you get here? Did Hedge Hog bring you here?"

"His name is Hoggle," Sarah emphasized, "and no, he didn't bring me here. You brought me here!"

"Impossible, I have no magic when it comes to you or any other mortal for that matter."

Sarah smiled at him feeling as though she had the upper hand, enjoying what she was about to level him with. "You left your jacket at my house. I found one of your crystals in the pocket."

The Goblin King growled irritated with himself. "You used my crystal?"

"Finders keepers," the mortal replied.

"Oh, very mature Sarah."

"As mature as keeping someone prisoner in your castle." This wasn't going the least bit like Sarah had imagined. She wanted to apologize, make things right. She wanted him to speak to her the way he had once before, with romantic promises and words of love. Instead they were battling like two adolescents in a school yard.

Jareth was furious with her for pushing his buttons, furious with himself for leaving the crystal behind. She was hard to love and he had thought he wanted to be rid of her, but now that she was here, maybe he didn't. If only he hadn't made that call to the Triumvirate this afternoon. Too late now he decided as he watched her staring off towards his bed. The robe had fallen back exposing all of her leg now which was more temptation than he needed, "Why don't you get dressed?"

In all the time she'd been awake since her bath, Sarah had never bothered to put on the gown that Arulan had left behind. She looked down at herself now realizing how much the terry robe exposed. 'Great,' she thought, 'He can't even look at me.' Not wanting to offend the king with any more of her revolting flesh, Sarah smoothed the robe over her rump as she stood. The beautiful carving on the footboard caught her eye for the first time. The waterfall and dancing fairies seemed a curious thing for Jareth to have carved into his bed. Wondering what the story was behind all the ornate pictures he chose to keep so close, in such a personal place as his bed, she lifted the silk chemise and robe from the bed. On her way to the bath, she watched Jareth staring into the fire. Somewhere inside him was the fey who loved her and even if she needed to be shameless about it she would bring that fey to the surface.

"Damn him for being so stubborn," Sarah told her reflection as she changed into her bed clothes. "And damn the Triumvirate too. What are they going to punish me for? I'm the reason their kingdom is repairing itself. If anything they should be catering to me, seeing that I'm comfortable and my needs are met." The seamstress had sewn together a perfect gown for the mortal, tight where it should have been, flowing like liquid mercury where tight was less appropriate. With the robe on, Sarah felt less revealed and for now she was content to leave it that way. She washed her face and plaited back her hair, leaving a few pieces to spiral loosely around her face. Satisfied with her appearance she, reemerged making a slight noise as if to clear her throat, when in reality she was trying to catch Jareth's attention. It was no use, he was still staring into the fire, oblivious to her.

Closing in on him, it was plain to see that he had fallen asleep. Arulan did say that the king was up all night, plus he'd gone to work today, whatever that entailed. He must be very tired she rationalized. Sarah was starving. With her host resting peacefully, she thought she could go seek out her own sustenance rather than disturb him. As quietly as she could, Sarah opened the large door and slipped into the hall. Grey stone comprised the walls to either side of her. Little decoration filled the space, some armor, some weaponry and scattered sconces to light the way. Before she could even reach the stairs the Goblin King was before her.

"Thought you could escape did you?"

"No, I was just…"

Without even allowing her to finish her justification Jareth scooped her up over his shoulder. Her small fists pounded into his back. "Let me down! Jareth, you put me on my feet this instant or I will…"

"You will what? Scream! You're already doing a fine job of that. You shouldn't have tried to escape." He threw open the door to the bedroom.

Most of Sarah was upset with him not letting her explain, but one small part of her was very excited by his assertiveness. "I wasn't trying to escape," she whimpered in her defense just before he tossed her on to the bed so hard that it made her bounce off the mattress a few times before her body lie still. The king's hair had gotten tussled in the process and his shirt had slid to one side of his shoulders revealing the pale chest Sarah had tried so hard to reach for in her dream. "I was just hungry." Her voice sounded childlike making her wish she could stuff the words back down her throat and repeat them in a more suggestive way.

Eyeing her suspiciously, Jareth used a flute to call for Arulan. The elf came into his quarters with a smile trying to hide itself on her lips. It pleased her to find his majesty in such close proximity to the mortal, especially bedside. Once he spoke, her hopes were dashed, "Get our prisoner," he said with distaste, "something to eat. She has grown so hungry that she felt the need to attempt an escape."

Sarah propped up on her elbows causing her robe to open wide, the lace bodice of her chemise revealed. "For the last time, I didn't want to escape." Her eyes moved to catch Jareth's, but his were already captured by the blend of creamy beige, lavender and lace that was exposed for anyone to notice. Arulan took the two of them in. They were playing a game of cat and mouse, she only hoped neither of them was stupid enough to lose each other again.

For an uncomfortably long moment, they continued to look over each other not realizing that Arulan had left the room. Sarah enjoyed catching him looking at her this way. She liked to think that he was still at least attracted to her, even if she had destroyed any chance there was for him to love her. It was only fair, her being able to use her body to torment him, for she had grown to hunger for him. That was his fault. Kissing her the way he had, letting her think that after all this time he would still come for her when he made his way into her world. Now she missed the things she had never even known before, the scent of him, the feel of him, the taste of him, all laced with magic, magic that made her come alive.

Jareth enjoyed taking in his mortal. The lines of her tone figure were pleasing to his eye. More than her breasts, more than her legs, he loved to look at her face, until that bratty mouth of hers opened. Then he grew overcome by the urge to hold her lips closed with his own until she ended her silly objections. But there was a piece of him that hated her, hated her for denying him, for making it so that he could never love another, making it so difficult to love her. Lost in thought, Jareth hadn't noticed that it was no longer just his heart which was filling with want. The tightening in his breeches made him turn around as inconspicuously as possible and sweep up his jacket, draping it over his forearm and holding it waist high before him so that it covered the rather obvious bulge that had begun to form.

"I'm going to take a bath," he announced. Thinking that he sounded awful foolish being so vocal about his bathroom habits, the king cringed as he reached out for the door. Once secluded inside, he ran a luke warm tub and dunked himself inside hoping it would chase away the flow of blood to his groin. Nothing with this woman was ever as it seemed to be. When she seemed to hate him, she loved him. When she seemed to turn him away, she wanted him. The Goblin King could no longer guess what she was thinking, but his suspicious nature made it difficult to trust her.

Still in his bed, Sarah peeled back the covers and snuggled inside their folds. Suddenly she felt quite weak, an odd sensation that started at her knees and went up to her head. She was cold, except for a few places that burned from within.

Arulan returned with Sarah's meal while Jareth was still in the bath. "Excuse me Sarah," she said placing the tray on the bedside table. "I've brought your dinner. I've got a quarter section of chicken, some potatoes and some fresh greens from his majesty's garden. If you don't like chicken, there's some lamb that I could bring or more soup."

"No Arulan, I don't mind chicken. This is fine. It looks wonderful." Sarah immediately jabbed a fork into the potatoes. Her appetite had most definitely returned.

"Oh where's my head," the elf said tossing her arms into the air. "Chef's made the most beautiful peach cobbler for desert and I haven't even brought you any. I'll be right back."

As she turned to go, Jareth came from the bath, his hair still damp and already in his pajamas. "Arulan?"

"Your majesty?" she said startled.

"I will take my meal here with the mortal. I no longer trust her to be left alone since her escape attempt earlier."

"Yes your grace."

"And Arulan?"

"Yes your grace?"

"I'll need you to have Gribbin organize two horses and travel supplies for the morning."

"Your grace?"

He approached his servant and spoke lowly, "Two horses and travel supplies Arulan, by morning."

"You can't be thinking of taking her to them."

"I must. She must be dealt with."

Her forearms rested on his chest, something Sarah took great interest in, "Please your majesty, take pity on the girl. It is obvious the two of you still feel something for one another. I beg you."

"Gribbin should set up enough to sustain us for up to one week. Without magic, we'll have to travel to the mountains the mortal way." His black silk gloves folded over her wrists, "There's nothing I can do. I've already called them and made an appointment for three days from tomorrow's sunrise. I will say what I can in her defense, but she must be brought before them. Otherwise, if they were to discover her on their own," he paused, "I fear that she would have faired better with the Pooka."

Arulan saw in his eyes that he was genuine. The mortal was getting to that part of him that he had locked away. She only hoped that they would find their way to one another, find a way around Jareth's being hurt and her being mortal. The pair would have many obstacles to overcome, Arulan knew this, but she also knew that in all of Jareth's life no woman had ever owned his soul, until now.

When his tray was served he took his meal on the settee by the fire. Chef was serving an herb encrusted lamb which induced a great thirst in the king. He rose to pour himself a goblet of mead. "Can I get you a glass?" he asked Sarah.

"I'm sorry?" she said barely able to hear him as he grumbled into the corner.

"I'm pouring a glass of mead for my dinner, would you like one?"

"What's mead?"

The king turned to her, the decanter still in his hand, his weight shifted to one side obviously annoyed with the conversation which had been born out of a rather simple question. "It is a honey wine, very common here. If you like, I also have merlot or a light Chardonnay."

"A Chardonnay would be nice," she replied.

He brought the glass to her, purposefully thumbing her fingers as she removed the crystal goblet from his palm. "Thank you," she said accepting the beverage, her eyes on his. "You could come up here and eat," the words blurted from between her lips without her permission. "I mean, if you don't want to eat alone."

"Would you enjoy my company?"

"If you stopped accusing me of trying to escape and weren't so defensive, perhaps I might." She cursed herself for sending as many mixed messages to him as she was receiving.

"I'm not defensive. You just misunderstand everything."

"See what I mean?"

"Hmpf!" Jareth went back to his tray mumbling, "Well at least I didn't mention your trying to escape again." When he'd left her side, he had intended to go back to the couch and eat, but now as he looked at his tray he saw his fingers wrapping through the handles and lifting it up so that he could go join her. 'What am I doing?' he found himself asking, but nonetheless, repositioned his meal so that it could be eaten while he watched the mortal, who seemed so small in his massive bed, so defenseless despite her sharp tongue.

Sarah smiled at him from the corner of her eye beneath two tendrils. "So, what's new?" 'Tell me I didn't just say that,' she cried inside.

Jareth just gave her a very confused look, his eyes rolled up high in their sockets as he paused mid-bite at the question.

"You know what I meant, how have you been?" Met with that same look, Sarah knew she wasn't getting any better at this. Trying to avoid saying anything else embarrassing, she returned her attention to her meal and filled her mouth with a forkful of greens.

The king sensed her tension. In truth he didn't know what to say to her unless it was being said in the heat of the moment, friendly banter had never come easy between the two of them. "I've been as best as could be expected." Keeping his answer short he busied his tongue by bathing it in a swig of mead.

'Me too,' Sarah thought. This had not been the best topic to discuss she decided. "I like your bed," she said cheerfully. Mead spurted from between Jareth's lips as he began to choke on the droplets that had gotten sucked into his airway. Sarah wished she could pull the covers over her head and vanish. "I mean, I've been very comfortable in it." Jareth looked at her quizzically between coughs. "The carvings are very interesting, quite pretty."

"Thank you," he finally managed. "My father had a similar bed built for my mother when he first came here. It is patterned after that."

"The dream catcher in her tomb, is that from her headboard?"

"Who took you to the tomb?" He questioned, his eyes blazing as he slammed his silverware onto the tray.

"No one," Sarah shook as she replied.

"How did you get in?"

"I…I asked permission of the guard."

"Didymus! I might have known he'd give you anything you wanted. You have them all wrapped around your finger. That place is none of your business and I forbid you to go there ever again."

"I think it's sweet," her voice still shaking in fear of him. Jareth was an attractive male, even more so when he was angry, but he was also powerful even without his magic. It was the powerful tone that came from his otherwise benevolent lips which shook her from within.

"Do you now?" Seeing her intense reaction to him having raised his voice he spoke more sternly and less loudly, refusing to meet her eyes.

"I do. Building a place like that where you can remember your mother. Giving her the dream catcher so that her eternal sleep will be filled with pleasant dreams."

"Little you know," the king huffed.

"Tell me then."

"You think you want to know, but you don't"

"I do," she protested. "I really do." Sarah moved the tray away, done eating for now. Her stomach was near exploding, but it felt good to have solid food in her so she tried not to pay any attention to what little discomfort she had.

"Leanan Sidhe is many histories old."

Sarah looked at him quizzically, "Why don't you call her mother?"

"Do you want to know about the dream catcher or not?" He didn't wish to discuss intimate things with her. He was angry that she had gone into his mother's tomb, angry that she had seen that deeply into him and yet seen nothing at all.

Sarah nodded.

"As I said, Leanan Sidhe is many histories old and has visited all regions of the Aboveground. In Scandinavia they named her Skagsfru. She became known as the forest fairy with the fatal touch. They, the mortals, told tales of how she would lure men into the woods and make love to them until she was able to suck the soul from their bodies. On the Isle of Man she was tagged the Dark Seductress, who would seduce her victims and draw their spirit out leaving him a ruined husk in body and soul. Bonga Maiden was her name in India, a capricious nature spirit who enticed, and even dared to marry, human men. But the lands that seem to know her best were the Americas. To the Lakota and other Native American tribes she earned the title Deer Maiden. Leanan Sidhe had great power to inspire artists, painters, poets, musicians, she shared her gift with them all. Rumors held that some of them went mad when their mortal minds failed to adapt to the flood of ideas that she gave them. As you can probably tell from her portrait, she was a strikingly beautiful creature with long dark hair and deep set eyes. Mortal men found her very attractive. Her tongue could spin silvery words out of rust making the cruelest insult sound like a robin's song."

'So that's where he got it, ' she thought. "She sounds like a wonderful woman," Sarah added when Jareth paused in his account of his mother's history. "Only it seems that she's been incredible misunderstood."

"I suppose that could be true. I can't say that I knew her very well, Sarah. She died when I was very young."

"Didymus told me how she stayed too long in the Aboveground."

"She was a fool, in life and in death, a fool. Leanan Sidhe's soul returned home when her body died. Of course it was as stubborn as it ever had been. She terrorized the Labyrinth and _that_ ," he empahsized, "is why I built the tomb."

"To give her some place to call home, but why the dream catcher from her bed?"

"You ask many questions, Sarah." Jareth pointed out as he gathered their goblets and went to refresh their drinks.

"I'm sorry, I just like getting to know people."

"No need to apologize. There is much here which I assume you will be curious about." The king handed her the refilled goblet and they both drank. "You know about dream catchers?"

"I studied anthropology in school. They were hung over beds, mostly children's, where they would collect all the pleasant dreams to hold for the sleeper and all the nightmares would pass through the hole in the center."

"Yes," he said, impressed that she had recalled something she had learned so long ago. "When Leanan Sidhe would visit the new world she met a Native American, he was not a chief or a medicine man, but he was better thought of than any other warrior. Somewhat of a wiseman he was, trusted and respected among his tribe. I am told that he treated Leanan Sidhe like his own child, refusing to believe the vicious rumors that were abound, believing in her, wishing her well. His name was Dyami. It means equal. Fitting as he was a very just man, fair and impartial. He crafted the dream catcher for her, in hopes that it would help hold all good things close to her while letting the pain and heartache pass through. I thought that it might help to quiet her soul."

"Why raven's feathers?" Sarah understood Jareth's headboard and the owl feathers, "Could your mother transform?"

"Indeed, but mother was a water breed. Dyami chose the raven feathers because of mother's hair."

Sarah watched as his eyes grew distant. It did not go unnoticed that he had called her mother for once. It was obvious that there was a great deal more pain behind his tale than he cared to admit. Her nature was to push the issue, but the Goblin King did not respond well to being pushed. Instead she asked, "What about the flower?"

"It is a Calla Lily kept perpetually under crystal. It will live forever."

"Isn't that kind of depressing, or at least ironic?"

Jareth finished his drink in one swallow and went for another fill. Sarah raised a hand politely refusing when he offered her more. "I suppose you could say there is some irony to it," the king agreed. "It is a flower associated with death and so for it to live forever must seem odd. But depressing? Really Sarah, I would have thought you far less provincial, you being a student of the arts and all. Don't they make you study interpretation in your mortal schools?" When he returned with his goblet he sat beside her on the bed. "The Calla Lily is a flower of singularity and unchallenged beauty, a flower your kind," he said the word with loathing in his tone, "has graced that which you shall carry with you when you are called home to your God as a symbol of his forgiveness for your sins."

"How do you know so much about my kind?"

"I work with them," he said flatly as his lips revisited the rim of his cup. "It's late and you've already had your bedtime story." The king moved to draw the covers over her. Her hands blocked him and she stood to remove her robe.

Feeling his eyes roam over her as she did so, Sarah moved even slower toward him. "I can't sleep in this thing," she explained as she lay the garment over the back of the chair where Jareth had been sitting. "Besides I really shouldn't keep you from your bed another night." Turning she looked innocently at him. After a moment, he managed to find her eyes.

"Thing of it is, I can't trust you, why with you trying to escape this afternoon and all."

"So we're back to that."

"We are." The king reached for the flute on the bedside table. Lifting it to his lips he played.

Arulan came in seconds later and gave a slight curtsy, "Yes, yer majesty?"

"Some blankets and pillows, Arulan. I wish to make my bed on the settee for tonight, in case our guest," he emphasized the word, "wishes to depart without my knowing in the middle of the night."

"Yes, yer majesty." As quickly as she came she was gone, the dinner trays taken with her.

Sarah crawled back in on the other side of the bed, "I don't know why your making such a fuss. There's more than enough room for us both in the bed."

Jareth's eyes drank her in. It didn't seem to matter how much he did that, observed her, he was still thirsting for the sight of her, hungry for the touch of her. "Sarah, there's not enough room in this kingdom for both of us, let alone that bed." With what little will the alcohol had left behind, the king took to the couch, waiting for his servant to return. Legs that were as unnaturally long as his fingers propped up on the leather of the settee. Jareth fingers laced behind his head so he could watch Sarah huffing and patting at the downy pillows trying to get comfortable. "Something the matter?"

"Just getting comfortable," Sarah told him.

The elf returned with blankets and pillows to spare and went about readying the couch for his majesty. Before she could finish, he dismissed her. "Where will we be going tomorrow," Sarah asked, still not tired enough to go to sleep.

"You'll see when we get there? Without magic it will take quite a while to reach our destination. I assure you that tomorrow will be quite a long day for you. Now shut your eyes and sleep." He made it clear that the topic was not open for debate. As he lay staring at the ceiling taking in steady deep breaths of lavender scent he whispered, "For some it may be an even longer night."


	16. Chapter 16

**CHAPTER SIXTEEN - LEADING A MORTAL TO HORSES**

At the castle's front gate the Goblin King and his mortal were greeted by Arulan and Gribbin, both of whom wore troubled expressions. It was Arulan who spoke first, "I see you found the things I left for you."

"I did." A canvas pack had been left in the king's chambers. Inside several pairs of heavy cotton pants with padded seats and a few mid-weight sweaters. Sarah had decided to throw in the long sleeved button up shirt from home and a few pairs of underwear. With outfits in the bag and the one she was wearing, it was obvious they'd be gone more than one day. What was she supposed to sleep in out in the middle of nowhere. The shirt would do nicely she concluded.

Jareth stood at Sarah's side. Black leather breeches rose up out of his boots and met a grey flowing silk shirt at his waist, a black leather vest held it tightly to his sculpted chest, his crop in hand. Gribbin, the king's stableman, refused to meet the questioning eyes of the king as he confessed the trouble they were having, "Your majesty, we're having a small problem with the horses that you've requested." Gribbin was taller than Hoggle, more broad. Sarah wasn't sure what species he was, but she assumed some sort of goblin chosen based on his size to work with the larger and powerful animals.

Eyes rolled as the king reached for his temple. Was nothing easy for him? Two horses, he had requested two horses. Why was that so difficult? "What's the problem?" Jareth asked, not really wanting to hear the answer.

The gruff voice of the goblin replied, "The cheval, she refuses to be reined. I didn't think you would want the mortal riding on her when she's acting up your highness."

"Indeed," Jareth nodded.

"I've reined the saddlebred for her your majesty."

"The golden? Are you sure that's wise?"

"Despite his size, he's a gentle gelding sire. What's more is we only got the Shagya and the other mustang broken."

Jareth sighed, "The saddlebred it is then." He turned to Sarah, "Are you ready?"

Though she wasn't sure, she nodded anyway. Arulan moved toward her, taking one hand into hers. "Do you really feel well enough to make this trip?"

"How long of a trip are we talking about?" Sarah asked the king's servant whose concern had made her curious.

"Three days. Without magic, it's three days travel to the mountains."

"Mountains?" Sarah gulped.

Jareth came between the two women, pushing Arulan back where he could speak to her in low tones that the mortal could not overhear. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing your grace."

"Leave it to my judgment to inform the mortal of what lies in store for her, do you understand?"

"Yes, your grace."

"Have you prepared the pack with our food?" His tone grew softer realizing that he was being a bit belligerent.

"I have."

"Thank you," he muttered.

Blue eyes teared up from beneath her golden locks when she heard the words not often used by the king. Her hands wrapped around his neck forcing him to bend down. In his ear the elf whispered, "Take care of her Jareth. The mountains are no place for a king without any magic. I'm afraid you won't be able to protect her or yourself."

"Dear woman, you needn't trouble yourself. I can care for myself as well as the girl."

"Just be careful," Arulan pleaded before pressing her lips to his cheek and meekly backing away.

Sarah turned her eyes away from the tender scene suddenly feeling as though she were intruding. Jareth cleared his throat and turned his attention to the stableman. "Shall we?"

Gribbin led them to the stables at the rear of the castle grounds. Horses ran freely inside a huge pen, their manes rippling in the drafts they created. "They're beautiful," Sarah commented her eyes wide. "Which one was I supposed to ride?" Jareth pointed to a grey spotted mare. "I've never seen a horse like her."

"I'm sure not," the king said. Under his breath he continued, "Leave it to a woman to give me trouble."

"What's her name?"

"Why does it matter?" he asked frustrated by the delay.

"I just wanted to know." The tone of her voice was slightly agitated but more hurt than anything.

Jareth sighed, "Shadowmere."

"And this is Chataigne," Gribbin said coming up between them tethering a beautifully shaped copper gold horse to the fence. Sarah stood in awe of the magnificent creature. Tall, well proportioned, bright eyes. The mane and tail were both pure white, although next to the rich color of the body it looked more cream. "Beaut, ain't he," the stableman said noticing the way the mortal admired the horse. She nodded. "Gimme just a minute, sire and I'll have Bagheera reined and ready for you."

"Sarah, I trust you've ridden before?" Jareth asked.

'Oh sure,' she thought, 'once at my cousin's birthday party, her dad hired some guy to show up with a pony and give all the kids rides. I was seven, how much different could this be?' "Sure," she told him, skipping the explanation.

"So what are you waiting for - mount up."

"Doesn't Gribbin need to bring out the saddles?"

"No, we'll be riding bareback. It's better for balance, better for connecting with the horse."

"Of course," Sarah said smugly, now regretting her decision to lie to the king. Her hands reached out to stroke the horse. His skin was warm from being in the sun. Chataigne turned his head to her. Sarah scratched at the white mark on his snout. "Hey boy, I'm Sarah. You sure are a handsome fella. I've never really done this before so cut me some slack okay?"

Gribbin came back from the stable with a stunning black mustang who walked in wide gaits to where he was being led. "Bagheera your highness." Jareth took the reins.

"Sarah, mount your horse," Jareth demanded.

Chataigne was a tall horse, seventeen hands to be exact. "I need something to put my foot in."

"How about your mouth?" the king suggested as he handed the reins back to Gribbin and stormed over to her side. "You've never ridden have you?" When she remained unresponsive, "Have you?" he asked more sternly. Sarah shook her head side to side. Jareth knelt before her his hands folded, his fingers locked.

The mortal looked at him, "What are you doing?"

"I'm giving you a leg up. Step into my hands and I will help lift you onto the horse." Sarah lifted her right foot and set the sole of her shoe into Jareth's hands. "Unless you wish to ride backwards, I suggest you use the other leg." Upon his suggestion she replaced her right foot with the left. Gribbin held the horse steady. The king lifted her into the air with great ease. Sarah swung her right leg around and clipped the king in the ear. "How the hell did you manage that?" he shouted from the ground when she looked down at him. Jareth shook his head trying to get it clear.

Sarah was at his side practically immediately, one hand on his shoulder the other on his chest, her fingers resting on his exposed skin. "Are you okay? I'm so sorry," she said frantically. "I shouldn't have tried if I didn't know what I was doing." Her hands reached for his head, parting his already scattered locks in an effort to find his injury.

It was odd having someone fawn over him like this, concerned about his feelings. Capturing her hands he chastised her, "Stop! Stop it this instant. I'm perfectly alright." He stood quickly leaving her kneeling over thin air.

"I just felt bad for hurting you."

"Well you don't have to worry about anything because I'm not hurt, you just managed to put me off balance." He dusted off his clothing and reached a hand out to help Sarah stand. "Now we really can't afford to continue wasting time." Accepting Jareth's hand she stood before him a confused look on her face. "Come on, let's have another go at it." He knelt again. "Don't swing your leg over until you're at the top of my lift. Grab onto the mane and pull yourself up."

Hesitant, Sarah put her boot into the hammock made by Jareth's leather gloves once more. They were black leather riding boots Arulan had left her. She blamed her sudden lack of coordination on their chunky cubed heal. "Isn't it going to hurt if I pull on his hair?"

"Sarah, really. Since you don't know a damned thing about these creatures I hardly think you're in a position to argue. Now come on, we haven't got all day." Once more the king lifted her to even with the horses back.

Grabbing hold of two handfuls of mane, Sarah pulled herself onto the gelding's back. Only once she was perched up there could she appreciate how truly massive the horse was. Though she tried not to show it, the height made her dizzy. Gribbin handed her up the reins which she received unsteadily. "It's easy," the farrier grumbled his accent sounded Hungarian to Sarah. "You wanna go right, you pull right. You wanna go left, you pull left. You wanna go, you kick with your heals. You wanna stop, too bad." He roared with laughter amused at his own wit. The rider he was instructing could find only panic in his humor. "I kid. Okay, you wanna stop, you pull straight back. Harder you pull faster he stop. You ready?"

Sarah nodded. Little did she realize Gribbin's lessons were over. He reared back his hand and slapped the horse's rump. Chataigne broke out in a gallop. "Gribbin!" the king disciplined. He swiftly mounted Bagheera and dug his heals into the animal's side as he chased down Chataigne. Sarah's body swung side to side atop her horse. Jareth was impressed with the amount of leg strength she displayed for someone who had never ridden. She pulled the reins as she swayed making the confused saddlebred run serpentine over the grounds. When the king was finally able to get to them he tried using magic to settle the horse, but because Sarah was on its back he had no luck. "Damn!" Riding closer to the horse now, dangerously close, he reached out one hand and made a pass for Sarah's reins. She toppled to the right and her gelding darted away. Jareth came up on the offside and tried again. This time he was successful and pulled the reins back hard, halting both horses. Sarah was trembling. "Are you alright?" he asked her. When she didn't answer, he continued to hold the reins and led both horses back to the fence where they had mounted.

Upon his return, Gribbin knelt, a weathered cotton hat being rung in his hands, as he apologized repeatedly. "Beg your pardon your highness. Beg your pardon milady. Beg your pardon the lot of you."

"Were you not such a fine farrier Gribbin, I'd deliver you straight into the bog." The Goblin King reached down and lifted his subject by the collar until he stood. Then, to be certain there was complete understanding between them, he lifted Gribbin to eye level, which was quite high considering Jareth had yet to dismount. "I shall not look so kindly upon misjudgments in the future."

"Nor would I expect you to your grace," the stableman choked.

Jareth released him from his grasp and he crumbled to the ground. "Go and bring the packs."

"Right away your grace."

Sarah looked at him her skin suddenly matching the color of her eyes, green. "Please get me off this thing."

Reluctant, but aware that the little race she'd run had truly frightened her, Jareth dismounted and stood to her right. He took her hand into his. "Lean over the side Sarah and just slide off. I'll catch you."

She did as he said, his hands catching her hips and lowering her feet to the ground. Sarah's hands came up over his forearms in an effort to brace herself. As much as she enjoyed being in his grasp again, the moment was wasted for just how ill she felt. Realizing he'd held her before him too long, Jareth released his grasp.

Sarah sat Indian style on the ground. "I'm not getting back on that thing. It hates me!"

"Ah," he said putting his hands to his own hips this time, "there's the child I remember from so many years ago. He was frightened and he acted rash, who are you to criticize?"

"I'm the one who almost got thrown eight feet to the ground. Who are you to force me back up there?"

"I've been thrown before, it's not that big of a deal. One way or another, Sarah, you will ride" Jareth crossed his arms over his puffed chest as he emphasized what was expected of her.

"Yeah well you're immortal and I'm not. I don't particularly want to die here." Tears she had meant to keep locked up began to fall.

The king had forgotten that she didn't have the same luxuries he did. She seemed to assimilate so well to being in the Underground it was sometimes easy to think of her as a mythical. To him she was fully comprised of magic. "Will you ride with me?"

"What?"

"You and I will ride on my stallion. I'll have Gribbin pack the gelding and when you're more comfortable, we'll rearrange the packing and give you back to Chataigne who I assure you has a far kinder and gentler side than you've been exposed to.

Sarah smiled at the irony of what was being said and by whom. "If we must make this journey, I would prefer to not ride alone until I am more comfortable on a horse."

"I'm afraid we must."

Gribbin busied himself while the king and his mortal bargained, tying up the tent and supplies to the back of the gelding. Some breads and cheeses which Arulan had bundled together with cured meats and a bottle of mead. "You're ready to go sire."

Sarah realized how very little he intimated her now. He could be fearsome. He could be cruel, but he no longer made her cower the way he could in her youth. She no longer feared him or the feelings that he stirred in her. Mounted atop Bagheera, Jareth looked like the king he was always meant to be. He was magnificent as the sun shone through his golden hair, his lower body blending in with the blackness of his steed making him seem as if he were an extension of the animal itself. He looked at the horse, then at Gribbin and finally at Sarah, his glove reached down to her. "Shall we?"

"I think we shall." There was a glimmer in her eye when she spoke. This was her chance to be alone with the king. Surprisingly, that had not occurred to her until now. She would make him realize again that he loved her, no matter what it took. His powers might have been usurped, but hers were just beginning to flourish.

Flexing his legs, he dug his heels into the animals' sides and Bagheera broke off. Sarah thought he'd quickly forgotten their negotiations until Jareth circled the animal back around and skillfully swept Sarah up by the elbow to swing her onto the horse's back behind him. She was lost in another daydream, completely unaware until she looked down and the ground was no longer at her feet. Jerking the stallion to a stop he heard Sarah let out a tiny cry as she almost lost her balance for the second time and the king, who had yet to let her go, tightened his hold and said over his shoulder, "Hold on."

Obediently her arms encircled his waist hooking her thumbs around a metal buckle that held his vest closed figuring that was the least conspicuous place to settle her hands. Gribbin worked to fix the gelding's reins into the packing mount on Bagheera's rear. "You're all set your majesty."

Two quick kicks, this time delivered slowly into the horse's sides, and they ambled off at a steady pace, one much more comfortable to Sarah. Or perhaps it wasn't the horse's pace which brought her comfort at all.

It was just after ten in the morning when they reached the door to the Labyrinth. Hoggle was waiting, at Jareth's request. When he'd left Sarah the day before to 'go about the business of the Labyrinth', he had informed the dwarf of her status. After a thorough reprimand, which included three months of extra duties, the king promised that he could see the mortal one last time before they appealed to the Triumvirate to send her Aboveground. Annoyed at seeing them sharing a horse, the dwarf snorted as they approached.

"Hedge hog," the king called when they were still several feet away, "open the gates."

"It's Hoggle and I ain't doin' anythin' until I hears Sarah tell me she's alright."

"I'm fine Hoggle, really," Sarah admitted when they were finally able to see one another. "Just a little bump on the head."

"Bump on the head, my foot!" When he spoke again, he directed his attention to the king, "Take her there," he pointed at the mountains, "if that's what you have to do, Jareth. Send her home if that's what you want, but you best make certain that no harm comes to this girl, otherwise,"

Unimpressed with any threat the dwarf could feasible offer, the king interrupted. "Otherwise what Higgle?" Sarah whispered Hoggle into the king's ear, but it went unnoticed without even causing a pause in his tirade. "Otherwise you shall borrow a step ladder and give me a ruddy good kick in the knee? Or perhaps you'll come to my castle while I sleep and pummel me with tiny fists until I wake up?"

Knowing there was nothing he could do to hurt Jareth, Hoggle backed down, "I just don't wanna sees her hurt is all."

Jareth shook Bagheera's reins. "In a few moments, you won't see her at all."

As they began to walk the horses away Hoggle tossed Sarah a bundle of muffins and cakes that Drema had made for her. A picture of his family was neatly tucked inside. "Goodbye Sarah," he called to her.

She spun her head over her left shoulder, "Bye Hoggle. Thanks for everything," she called back. Then with great slowness and exaggeration, so that he could make it out she mouthed, 'I'll be fine.'

For three hours they rode on in near silence. Occasionally, Sarah would ask some question about the maze or make some comment about it's new state of repair. Jareth would acknowledge her with a word or two in response, but never answering more than she asked.

"Don't you think we should take a break? I'd really like to stretch my legs and eat something." Sarah said when noon had come and gone without any chance to get down from the horse.

"It's only been a few hours, Sarah." Jareth reminded her. "We'll take a break when we get out of the Labyrinth."

Was he serious? Maybe the Goblin King was used to riding for days on end, but not this mortal. "Well how long does that take?"

Did she need to make everything so complicated. "It depends. Now without you I could snap my fingers and be to the Triumvirate in a couple of seconds. Being made to do this the mortal way, I could feasibly manage this thing in five hours, but since the horses would not be able to travel through the tunnels and passageways beneath the surface, it's going to take us at least nine. If we run it straight through we can be out of here before night fall. The more of these little stretching sessions you care to engage in, the longer it takes us to get out and the more night time we get to spend in the maze. Care to find another Pooka to ride off with?"

"No," she said sounding defeated. Sarah was tired. She hadn't slept well the night before, partly in anticipation of today and partly from knowing that Jareth was sleeping a few feet away. With one hand she undid the bundle that Hoggle had tossed her. She found the picture on top and smiled. Then she took out two of the muffins Drema had made. They were smaller than the muffins made Aboveground, but larger than bite-sized mini muffins and they smelled divine. There was a streusel topping baked on. Biting into one she savored the cinnamon apple filling, "Mmmh."

"What are you going on about?" Jareth asked when he began to get distracted by the sounds she was omitting.

"Here, taste," Sarah told him as she held the second muffin to his lips. He hesitated. "Go on, they're delicious."

"I'm not hungry."

"Just try a bite. What do you think I poisoned it so I could make an attempt to escape again?"

"You may have." Sarah shoved the muffin into his open mouth forcing him to take a bite while he mumbled on in protest sending crumbs flying from his lips in all directions. Sarah giggled. Once he was able to clear his mouth he said to her, "That was dignified." Bringing the back of one of his gloves to his mouth, he wiped away what remained.

"Just finish it," Sarah told him holding what was left of the muffin to his lips.

"I hope your parents never let you feed Toby," Jareth chided as he opened his mouth to accept her offering.

More delicately, she set the muffin inside his parted jaws, grazing his lips with her finger tips as she backed her hand away. The king sat frozen, his mouth agape, his lips tingling from her touch. 'Chew you idiot!' his mind screamed and like an obedient dog, the joint began to function in an exaggerated circular motion that made him feel like a cow.

Sarah redid the bundle as best she could with one hand and replaced her arm about Jareth's waist. "You really don't want to stop yet?"

"No." And just like that they were back to a game of questions and one worded answers.

Deciding she would rather not speak to him at all when he was behaving this way, her eyes went closed and she allowed the warm air to lull her into sleep. Only as they rode, the sleeping mortal bobbed side to side. "Stop fidgeting!" Jareth shouted when a few times he almost lost his balance as well.

"Sorry, I must have nodded off." Sarah apologized, but having tasted sleep her head could no longer hold itself up. Resting her head on the king's shoulder she settled in for a nap. The smell of his leather vest filled her nose and the ends of his wild blonde hair tickled the back of her neck, a warm breeze continuing to kiss around her face; everything felt like spring.

Jareth opened his mouth to say something, pausing a moment to debate whether it should be an order or a jabbing remark, but instead he let himself enjoy the feel of her, the comfort of her closeness and for a moment he fooled himself into believing that she trusted him. They continued on their ride a few hours more. Afforded the freedom of his passenger's slumber he could enjoy looking around, eagerly observing the improvements within the Labyrinth. The stone walls had grown sturdy, mosses and ivy were beginning to grow up and cascade over their sides, statues that had worn down to little more than misshapen pillars were taking form. His soul had made her very powerful indeed. He began to wonder what long since forgotten corners of the Labyrinth might look like. With that he was damning night to come and try to trap them inside the maze. This was his, the lot of it, he was king of everything inside these winding walls and outside for that matter. Even without his magic they could not deny his title. The king pulled hard on his stallion's reins turning Bagheera sharply left. They would make one small detour he'd decided. They would have dinner someplace Jareth had not seen since his childhood.

Waking the sleeping mortal proved difficult. First Jareth called her name. Next he tried moving his shoulder about. Then he endeavored to rousing her by tapping her hands which were still clasped around the buckle of his coat. That got her to stretch her long arms out, smoothing them over his leather breeches. The king watched intently as her delicate hands ran down three quarters of the length of his thigh and then paused and retraced their steps until her forearms rested limply on the crooks of his legs, her hands hanging just in front of his crotch. That certainly wasn't helping anything. He tried flogging the reins to get the horse to mill around a bit. Sarah clutched to his chest, but remained resting in the arms of Morpheus.

The time for subtlety had come and gone. Jareth tilted his head over the shoulder where she slept and in a booming shout called out, "Rise and shine."

Sarah jumped. The king, still fairly amused with himself held her arms to keep her from sliding right off of the horse. This gesture was not appreciated by the mortal who only wanted to focus on what mischief her driver had engaged in. Once she'd regained her balance, Sarah pulled her arms from his hold and swatted him on the shoulder which had held her head only moments earlier. "What were you thinking shouting at me like that?" A furious growl rumbled in her throat. "I could have fallen again."

"You're not likely to rise without a cannon shot going overhead, besides I had hold of you the entire time." He suppressed most of a chuckle and rounded his shoulders as another blow struck his right side, setting loose a chain of uncontrollable laughter. "Come," he said composing himself and holding his hands up above his shoulders. "You do still want to stretch, do you not?"

In fact, she did even more so now that she had rested. Her hands slid over his gloves and letting her right leg wrap round the back of the horse she let Jareth assist her to the ground and then watched as he dismounted expertly. They were in the middle of a huge garden. "Are we still in the Labyrinth?" Sarah asked when she did not recognize this spot from her prior visits.

"Indeed," Jareth replied. He snapped his crop off Bagheera's rump and sent him running.

Amazed at how much room the creature had to do so Sarah looked around. There were benches and arches, stone pathways and acres of flowerbeds which spotted the garden, but most impressive was the fountain in a far corner of the garden and the weeping willow tree which was at the center of it all. She knew the water feature had to be massive, just by seeing it standing in reference to Bagheera who was drinking from its pool. The 1500 pound stallion looked like a sheepdog. "What is it that's caught your eye?" The Goblin King was at her ear.

She jumped, just as she had once before when he warned her, 'It's further than you think.' Sarah looked to the side at him, first his mouth, then his eyes and finally his mouth again. "Statue," she stammered, "I was trying to make out that statue." A shaky hand rose and a slim finger jerked in the direction of the fountain.

Gloved fingers rested on the small of her back, the king's other hand gesturing before them as he guided her forward. Jareth was giddy, like a schoolboy, to be back in the spot his mother had created, the haven she'd made for herself after his father died, where she attempted to find some happiness before she too joined him. Everything there was to know about this garden, he knew. As a child he had played here. The king liked to think that this place represented all that was good about the Leanan Sidhe and all that was unknown about his father. At the edge of the fountain, Sarah broke her reflection in the water by jabbing at it with her finger. When the water settled, Jareth's face was staring back from beside hers. It was the first time she'd ever seen the two of them together. The image created a strange fluttering in her stomach. In an effort to forget one romantic image for another, Sarah tilted her head back and stared into the face of Cupid.

"A mischievous little child," Jareth told her as he sat on the fountain's edge. "Cupid was the son of Venus. He ran about shooting his arrows at humans and gods, causing them to fall deeply in love. There was one human who it was rumored was so beautiful she was often mistaken for Venus herself, Psyche, who was very beautiful indeed. Furious, Venus sent her son to see to it that the mortal fell in love with the most unattractive outcast in the mortal realm. But, when Cupid looked upon the mortal, he was no longer able to complete his task, for he saw the beauty that the others had spoken of and fell in love with the girl. He took her to his palace and was very generous to her, asking only that she never look upon him in the light."

"Why?" Sarah interrupted as she gazed upon him, her eyes traveling from head to toe grateful for the opportunity.

"Because he was a god and that is how the Romans determined it would be." He continued on from where she had stopped him, " Each night, Cupid would join her and in the morning he would be gone. With some prompting from her sisters, Psyche's curiosity finally got the better of her and she wondered if the man she loved were beauty or beast. Late one night she took an oil lamp and cast the light upon his sleeping face. What she discovered was that he was not, in fact, the wretched monster others had led her to believe, but instead he was more handsome than she could have imagined. Shocked by his beauty she jumped causing some of the oil to spill onto Cupid's shoulder and wake him. As you might imagine, he was hurt and angry that she had defied him and so he left her and with him vanished their palace and their gardens, Psyche was left alone in an empty field. Finally realizing what had been hers was true love all along and she had broken it. She searched for him endlessly with great remorse in her heart. Finally, in desperation, she went to see Venus." Sarah listened with fierce curiosity to his tale, her mind trying desperately to ignore the similarities to their own strange paths.

"Venus wanted to destroy her and so she assigned her a series of tasks, each more difficult and dangerous as they went along. But Psyche met each challenge and returned victorious. Her final task would take her deep into Hades to request some of Proserpine's beauty in an effort to make up for the wear on Venus because of this whole matter between her and Cupid." She loved to watch him tell the story. The way his hands moved to indicate the box or the way his face would furrow while he spoke with such animation. "Proserpine gave her a gold box which did not contain beauty at all. Psyche was told not to look into the box, but of course she did, this time her curiosity had rewarded her with a Stygian sleep. Cupid, now healed from the burn of the hot oil and ready to forgive Psyche for her disobedience, was in search of his beloved. When he found her he held her in his arm's suddenly aware of just how much he loved the mortal. He then delivered the box to Venus and went to Zeus to beg him to intervene on behalf of his love. The gods, especially Jupiter, were so moved by his love for her, they agreed to make her immortal. Jupiter gave Psyche a cup of nectar to drink which turned her into a goddess. Venus was far less appalled by the thought of her when she was no longer a mortal. Thus, Cupid and Psyche could be together forever without the interference of anyone.

Sarah thought over it a moment, the story of this god, Cupid, who fell in love with a mortal and she could have drawn any of a hundred similarities between this story and her own, but instead she asked Jareth, "I don't see what the big deal is about wanting to look at the man you love."

"You're missing the point," he said frustrated that she seemed to not notice that Cupid had merely asked Psyche to let him rule her and she could have everything she wanted. "This god asked only one thing of his mortal lover and she was too childish to give him even that. She listened to everyone else when they said he was a monster rather than trusting him. What reason did he ever give her not to trust him?" The king was bellowing now.

"He only came to her at night. How was she supposed to know?"

"It shouldn't have mattered, she should have loved him not for what he was but for who."

Not being much a feminist until then, Sarah asked, "Why did it always have to be his way?"

Jareth stood, slamming the back of one hand against the palm of the other, "Because he was a god!"

"And she was a lady, didn't the Romans have chivalry?"

"Chivalry is not giving some insolent child her way and granting her permission to ravage your palace and you lands." That being said, the king turned from her his coat rising as he did so, and his paces leading him back to Chataigne.

It could have been reasoned that Jareth had spoken of the luxuries that Cupid took with him when he left Psyche, but as Sarah sat slack jawed on the edge of that fountain she couldn't help remembering how much different the Labyrinth had looked only yesterday before she arrived. Something inside told her Jareth spoke of something more intimate, something personal, of his kingdom and his lands that she had ravaged. An aching heart skipped a beat inside her heavy chest. Bringing herself to her feet, she glanced up at the statue once more. The face was handsome she agreed, god-like and distinguished, but it did not impress her. She had looked into the mismatched eyes of love and refused them. Though he was not a god, perhaps Jareth was no beast either, this king who had tried to love her in every way he knew how. Sullenly, Sarah followed in his dejected footsteps, still with no understanding of what it was like to be in his shoes.

What Arulan had packed them filled their hunger, but nothing seemed to block up the silence which settled between them. Finally, frustrated by the quiet Sarah said, "The flowers in this garden are lovely."

"They were meant to be heard, not seen." Jareth's words came cryptically, causing her to screw up her face with confusion. "My mother constructed this garden as a way to honor my dead father. Some place she thought she could come to remember him and be satisfied with just those memories, but instead it grew to torment her, mock her and force her to flee the Labyrinth entirely."

"I don't understand," the mortal admitted.

Not surprised, Jareth spat, "I don't imagine you would."

She tried to exhibit some patience with hi. While it would have been easy for her to apologize and then to move on, she was too stubborn to concede and sarcasm filled her words where compassion left off, "Try me."

"The meaning of things is crucial here. There are no accidents. Nothing that happens in the Labyrinth is ever by coincidence Sarah. Every stone, every plant, every door and tunnel, while each of them may seem random and chaotic, was created with purpose. Even the inanimate have things to say merely by being." Jareth rose from the bench where he had sat to eat and went to the willow tree in the center of the garden, ducking beneath its drooping branches to rest his back against the trunk.

"So it's symbolic," Sarah caught on. "The Leanan Sidhe planted a willow as a symbol of her mourning."

"And yet it's more," he told her his voice rich with sincerity now that the leaves could hide his eyes from hers. "I could never find words to explain to you how deeply we fey are capable of feeling things. This tree was not just planted to show my mother's mourning. It was watered with her tears that some of what she felt might leave her body and lighten it." He strolled out from beneath the branches to a nearby bed which hosted an array of bachelor's buttons. Most of them were blue, but a few had managed to come up in shades of yellow, orange and red. First he told Sarah the flowers name and then explained, "These represent celibacy. A vow mother took after father died. Not only would she never love another man, but she would never take them to her bed even in an effort to satisfy her most basic urges."

"Daisies?" It was half question and half an attempt to switch the topic from urges onto anything else. "Did your mother pick the petals wondering if your father still loved her, even after death?"

"She may have. But those are a symbol of innocent and loyal love. When others spoke of her as a vixen, a puppeteer of the heart strings, mother sometimes lost sight of the fact that she did love father in the truest way, in the same way as Cupid and Psyche loved one another. Only mother's innocence could be as deadly as the box which Venus gave to the mortal, but she never knew." The third prevalent flower in the garden was Acacia, a bright yellow flower which the king explained was a symbol of secret love, "Because they were different, my parents, because father's parents weren't able to appreciate my mother's," Jareth struggled with telling her just how similar to the Roman gods Ian and the Leanan Sidhe had been, "heritage," he finally came up with, "their love was made secret for some time." Jareth moved to stand before another yellow flower in the garden, the pansy. "This is to let father know that when he looks in on us, though he is gone, we shall never cease to think of him. The living and the dead rarely communicate with each, but the meaning of a flower is universal over time, space and astral plane." He braced his hands in the concave arch where rich purple flowers tumbled down onto his forearms, "Lastly these are cobaea scandens, representative of the gossip that hung over their heads and surrounded their relationship all the days they shared together."

What had been a remarkable garden only an hour ago was now something far superior. Sarah looked at it again through eyes that had been opened to the intensity of what the flowers said. Tears rolled over her lower lids and she turned to wipe them away. "How do you know all this and yet not know your mother?"

Jareth became aware, by her question, that he was letting down too much of his guard and answered abruptly, "Others told me tales when I was young. We should continue on our way for time is growing short. I should not have brought you here." He whistled for his horse.

Bagheera came swiftly to his side and Jareth knelt to offer Sarah a leg up as he had before. "No, thank you," she told him. "I think I'm ready to try riding alone." She took Chataigne's snout into her hands and scratched at his cheeks while the king unfastened his packs from her horse and repositioned them on to his stallion.

"Along the blaze," he instructed her.

"Excuse me?"

Dropping his packs at her feet, Jareth rose a leather glove to the horses head. "This marking," he stroked over an elongated white marking on Chataigne's face, "is called a blaze. It seems to be the beast's favored spot for stroking." Indeed, the gelding leaned into the king's gentle touch. Sarah didn't blame him. As she watched Jareth being tender with the animal, the way he was just then, she regretted announcing her independence and readiness to command Chataigne, but it was too late to take it back now. Her hand lifted to join his and no sooner did she make contact with the blaze then his hand left.

'Fine,' she thought. 'Be that way.' Gathering up the bundle from Drema which still held a cake and several muffins as well as the photo, she tucked it into her packing and set about trying her damnedest to mount Chataigne. The horse ambled out of her reach a few times causing her to fall on her rump. She tried standing on the concrete benches in order to give some height to her attempts, but it was fruitless.

"Leg up?" he asked from the ground beneath her.

"Thank you," she said once he had helped her into position on the gelding's back.

Jareth mounted his horse and turned to her, "And so you see chivalry does still exist."

Sarah blushed.

Trailing behind Bagheera, Chataigne followed the stallion and his master out of the Labyrinth proving to Sarah that he was every bit the gentle creature she was told he could be. But it was not the horse that was on her mind. Nor was it the Labyrinth, both parts she recognized and other foreign segments, which were now fully repaired and flourishing with life. The mortal was hypnotized instead with the king and the regal way he commanded his beast with a patience that he rarely displayed and an ever present grace. A time or two he had looked behind him to be certain that the gelding had not wondered off to some distraction, but mostly he rode back straight, eyes front, with determination and purpose.

Evenings shadows were being swallowed up by the dark mouth of night as it engulfed the corridors they traveled through. The king ignited a lantern. Sarah halted her horse so that she could see what he was doing. He rose a hand to indicate she should stay where she was and then began pacing Bagheera back and forth. "It should be here," he repeated as they went over and over the same section of wall.

"What are you looking for?" Sarah asked frightened by his confusion.

"The door. It should be right around here some place."

Knowing that was their goal, to find the door, and already having felt what night inside the Labyrinth was like, Sarah began looking too. Her lantern took several tries to light, but it was worth the effort for it's rays revealed a large set of double wooden doors just back the path a little way. "I think I found them," she shouted and turned Chataigne in their direction. Jareth followed fast behind.

"So you have," he acknowledged as he dismounted. His strong arms folded as he attempted to press the doors open. Even several attempts to ram them with a shoulder were unsuccessful.

"What are you doing?" Sarah called to him. "Use your magic."

"I can't."

"You can't use your magic on me, why can't you use it on the door?"

Moving to stand beside her horse in the glow of her lamp he explained, "I have no power when it comes to you. I could open the door, go through, set up camp, but you would have to remain here. Do you wish to spend the night inside the Labyrinth without me?" Sarah shook her head. "Then unless you can pick a lock, we'll be camping here together."

"It so happens that I can pick a lock," the mortal told him proudly. "Karen had this drawer where she kept things, things she didn't think I knew about, didn't want me to know about. She locked it every time she and daddy left the house. She made it seem so elicit I just had to see inside, so I learned to pick the lock."

"And what did you find inside?"

Her cheeks donned the same blush they had when Jareth had created the masquerade just for her, "I'd rather not say." The king took the lantern from her hand and set it on the ground by his, offering his arms for her aid. On the ground, Sarah found a sturdy stick and flattened one of the jagged sides. Tinkering with the lock, she twisted the stick in a multitude of directions and obscure angles attempting to roll the tumblers and open the door. "Oh," she said collapsing against the door in frustration, "this would be so much easier if we had a key." Her hand smoothed over the stick once more as she prepared to blunt the other end and give it another try. The duo looked on in awe as the chipping bark that went under her palm became a gleaming metal in the glow of the oil lamps. When her fingers slipped over the end, tiny squared teeth hung from the bottom of the shaft.

"How'd you do that?" Jareth asked.

"I haven't the foggiest," Sarah admitted before swiping her hand over the other end of the stick and making it into a handle by which to turn the key. She set it inside the key hole and turned until she heard the click. Gently she pressed against the doors and sent them swinging wide. Once fully opened, the key vanished.

"So it's true, you do have magic." The king knew that she could wish for things and his powers would serve her within reason and he knew that she had mortal magic which he had ignited with his soul, but he never dreamed it could be so useful.

"Of course I have magic, you gave it to me, remember?"

"I never gave you magic like that. It's you being here that's making my Labyrinth repair, isn't it?" She looked away shyly in admission. "What you've done for the Labyrinth, helping it regrow, that's from what piece of my soul you own. Your wishes being granted, yes, but this, this is far greater magic than I ever gave you."

For a minute she felt sick. "You didn't give me the visions then?" hesitation heavy in her words.

"What visions?"

"Never mind, forget I said anything."

The doors were beginning to slowly close. Jareth handed Sarah her lantern and picked up his own. They walked their horses through the gate which slammed shut immediately upon their passage through. "I'd still like to know how in the Underground you managed that little trick," he reminded her as he set to pitching their camp for the night.

"It's like you said, everything here serves it's purpose." Sarah wanted to make it seem completely natural. She didn't want him asking all kinds of questions she wouldn't be able to answer or worse, would be incriminated by.

"That's not what I said." His voice filled with impatience and while it could have been at the kindling which refused to ignite, Sarah guessed it was with her.

"Well it's true isn't it?"

"And so it is," he declared stepping back having successfully ignited a fire. If starting a flame had been trying, pitching a tent was even more so by half. The king fumbled with the steel bits and the canvas tarp, cursing under his breath so as not to offend Sarah, who sat by the fire keeping warm and staying amused as she watched him. "Don't know what you're laughing at," Jareth told her, "you've got one to set up too."

"No I don't," she insisted as she finished another of the muffins Drema had sent along.

From beneath several folds of canvas the king growled, "You most certainly do. I'm not doing it for you. Chivalry is one thing, but servitude is another."

"I don't expect you to do anything for me," she retorted wiping her hands together, ridding them of crumbs. "I haven't got a tent. The only things in my pack are for cooking with and the clothes that Arulan put together for me."

Giving up his fight with the fabric, Jareth lie back looking up at the stars, "Unbelievable," he sighed. Sarah moved to help him with the tent, "I can get it," he insisted. Tossing the fabric off of himself and standing back to look at everything once more, one hand at his hip, the other at his chin. "Right then," he removed his coat and pushed up the flouncy sleeves of his half open shirt.

The mortal chuckled as she watched him trying to fit the frame together. Without waiting for him to request her assistance she stooped next to him and began assembling the pieces of metal.

"You don't have to do that," Jareth told her.

"I don't mind. I get the impression that the women of the Underground are, how do I say this without seeming crass, just so." The king smiled at her comment. In fact the fey women of the Underground were exactly 'just so' as it were. Other species' women worked, sometimes like men, sometimes harder, but the ladies of his gentry always seemed to think it was unnecessary. He turned his face away when he felt his smile growing too large. "Well," Sarah continued, "that's just not like me."

"I suppose it isn't," the king agreed as he began to fit a few of the assembled rods through the edges of the canvas. "This is really starting to look like something you could sleep in."

It took them nearly an hour, but eventually the shabby green canvas looked almost like it should have and the pile of spare parts had shrunk to a manageable number that could be inventoried with just one hand. Jareth tied their food into a tree and told Sarah to season the cast iron skillet while he was gone. "Gone where?" she asked quickly not much wishing to be left alone out here.

"You want a proper dinner don't you? You'll be fine, nothing more than a chipmunk or a pixie would be out now." That said, he transformed into his owl form and flew off over the gently sloping hills which faced the Labyrinth.

As she was told, Sarah seasoned the skillet placing it into the fire and singeing the herbs and spices until they remained stuck to the bottom of the pan, scraping out the excess for a smooth cooking surface. Rustling could be heard in the distance and she hugged herself wishing Jareth hadn't gone off. Passing the time, she sung to herself as she rocked back and forth beside the fire. "When you walk through a storm keep your chin up high and don't be afraid of the dark. At the end of the storm is a golden sky and…" A flapping of wings made her stop the soothing melody in time to see Jareth changing back into his fey shape and touching his feet down without disturbing a single blade of grass.

Withdrawing a bundle from the crook of his arm he set it into the frying pan. Sarah was still by the fire's edge, leaning back in awe of what she had just witnessed. "Come now Sarah, surely you've seen owls before?"

"Yeah, but I've never seen them turn into Goblin Kings and vice versa."

"Impressive isn't it?" he asked smoothing his hands over his leather vest and joining her by the fire where he could tend to the rabbit filets which he had gotten them.

Truthfully, it was impressive, but damned if she'd admit that to him. Instead she simply shrugged her shoulders and asked, "What's in the frying pan?"

"Dinner."

She'd been away too long and forgotten how to ask questions properly. "What's for dinner?"

"Rabbit."

"Where'd you get rabbit?"

He furrowed his elegant brow at the mortal, "Just over the hill there's a butcher's shop." Finally Sarah realized what the rustling was, why Jareth had switched his form. She curled her lips and wrinkled her nose. She had no interest in a fresh kill. The king noticed her hesitation, "Oh you haven't even tried it yet," he scolded as he turned the filets in the skillet.

It really didn't smell that bad, it was more the idea she was having trouble with. 'Just like when Karen wanted to serve caviar at one of her parties,' Sarah thought. 'Give it a try, the worst you can do is throw up.' She handed him two plates from her pack and while he finished the rabbit filets, she poured some mead into the cups.

Jareth watched Sarah as she pushed the filet around on her plate. "Tell me then, does your magic allow you to taste things with your eyes?"

"Of course it doesn't!"

"Then you better try putting some of that in your mouth before it gets cold."

Sarah smirked at the king, now completely aware that she was being watched. The meat broke tenderly with just the edge of her fork. Chewing slowly, she waited as the flavor began to reach her tastebuds. She winced in anticipation of a taste which never came. The meat was delicious, tender and seasoned from what she had seared into the pan earlier. The king smiled as he watched her inhale three more small bites before washing it down with some mead. Slapping her lips together in appreciation, Sarah looked into the cup she was drinking from. "This is really good. It tastes sweet, like honey."

"It is honey," Jareth said flatly.

"Oh."

"So the meal is to your liking?"

"Yes, very much so." She stole a quick look at him out of the corner of her eyes, but quickly averted her stare when she realized he was looking back.

When she had finished her dinner and several cups of mead, Sarah yawned. "I'll clean up," the Goblin King offered. "You need to get your rest for tomorrow."

"What about you? Aren't you going to rest?"

"I'll get rest, don't worry about me."

"But,"

"I said," he repeated deep and slow, "don't worry about me."

Once inside the tent, Sarah traded her riding clothes for the white lace panties she'd packed before she'd tried to come Underground and the old comfortable button up shirt that she had brought from home. She crawled in under the blankets, making note that there was only one bed prepared inside. Her mind was suddenly wide awake at the thought of the king sliding in next to her. After lying their a while, now too anxious to sleep, she poked her head out of the tent looking for Jareth.

Against a tree that faced the entrance of the tent, the Goblin King leaned, one lengthy leg crossed over the other. Eyes closed, his chest rose and fell in steady rhythm. Sarah watched him for a few moments, taking in the way his elegant eyebrows had relaxed and fallen on his vulnerable face. Long blonde strands fell over his lips and nose bobbing and swaying in reaction to his breath. Something compelled her to get closer to him. Slowly she padded her way across the grass until she was nose to nose with the king, her face a fraction of an inch from his.

Without so much as a flinch for warning, Jareth's eyes snapped open and his gloved hands wrapped around Sarah's elbows making her gasp. He grabbed her hard pulling her to him, he screamed, "What are you doing?!"

Sarah stammered for words, shocked at how he had gone from innocent to menacing in a second's span. "I was just wondering why you weren't in bed and came looking for you."

"You didn't think I was coming in there to sleep with you?" he asked releasing his hold on the mortal.

"Well I certainly didn't think you'd lean up against a tree to get some shut eye," she answered him.

"I haven't the desire to share quarters with you. I'm sorry if you find that disappointing."

Hurt washed over her face. "Fine," she spat at him as she turned to go back to the tent. She threw open the door and stooped over to crawl inside. Just then Jareth realized that her legs were bare. His eyes followed them up from the ankles. By the time he reached the white lacy bottoms of her panties peeking out from beneath the edge of her shirt he was regretting everything he had just said. Truthfully, he had a great desire to share quarters with her, one that was beginning to strain the fabric of his breeches as he kept watching her.

***AUTHOR'S NOTE*** Thanks to everyone who has been reading. I will be out of town next week and unable to post. My next update will be Monday June 19th.


	17. Chapter 17

**CHAPTER SEVENTEEN - HAVEN'T I SEEN ALL THIS SOMEWHERE BEFORE**

Watching the sun come up had become one of Jareth's new hobbies since the mortal had reentered his realm. Like a ball of fire it broke the easy peacefulness of the horizon, making the Underground seem to shudder for a split second as it did so. Inside the tent, Sarah continued to sleep. 'How does her kind do it?' he wondered, thinking of the lazy way mortals had of sleeping away a third of their lives or more. Fey could be completely functional on as little as three hours of sleep a night, sometimes forgoing the luxury all together if it was necessary. The Goblin King's first instinct was to swing open the flap and barge inside, demanding she wake up. Then he recalled the way in which she had gone to bed last night and decided to wait another hour or so to see if she would rise on her own. In the meanwhile, he quenched the fire they had made and took down their packs so that he could ready the horses. Walking Bagheera and Chataigne to a nearby pond he allowed them to drink until they were content and then took them back to their campsite.

As he expected, Sarah had yet to stir. They had a lot of ground yet to cover and the Triumvirate was expecting them promptly at seven in the evening of the third day. "Sarah," he called as he threw open the tent flap. She was kneeling on the ground, her back to the tent opening, wearing her riding pants and a bra, brushing out her long black hair preparing to wind it into a bun.

When she heard Jareth call for her, she didn't jump, didn't move to cover herself, instead she just continued the long even strokes with the brush, confident that he would never invade her privacy after what he'd said to her last night. "Yes," she replied without even turning around.

Jareth backed out of the tent suddenly feeling as if he were intruding. "We've got to get going if we're going to keep on schedule."

"Be right out," she called tucking the ends of her hair under the bun she'd made. Nervously she worked at straightening the waist of one of her sweaters as she came out of the tent.

The king looked at her, fresh from sleep and seeming radiant, padded riding pants giving her an exaggerated shape that made her seem even more voluptuous. "Have something to eat. I'll take down the tent and get it packed."

"I can help. I mean, I wouldn't want to condemn you to my servitude." Silently she chastised herself. She'd promised she would try her best not to be defensive or confrontational with him today, but it never worked. It seemed as if everything he said was an invitation to be argumentative.

"No thank you. If it takes you as long to eat as it does to rest, it'll be lunch before you finish breakfast."

"Isn't there anything you take your time doing?" She protested as she dug out a couple of Drema's muffins and the canteen of water.

If it hadn't been for his heightened sense, the Goblin King probably would not have heard her last remark. He smiled to himself wickedly. "There are a few things," he said under his breath as he lifted the cushion which had served her as last night's pillow to his face and inhaled her scent. Then he quickly finished clearing the tent and breaking it down.

While Jareth cursed at the bits of steel that had given him so much trouble the day before, Sarah was wishing she had something other than water to drink. Testing her magic, she picked up one of the stones that made up the pit their fire had burned in. Concentrating on a fresh juicy orange she slid her hand over it turning the stony shell into a fleshy orange. Completing the transformation, Sarah dug in with her fingernail. Easily piercing the flesh, Sarah pulled the rind aside eager to get to the tender fruit. Pulling off one of the sections, she shoved it into her mouth and bit down. Looked and tasted real. That was promising. A few times she repeated the process until she had a half dozen or so of the succulent fruit at her dispose. She emptied her canteen and began squeezing the fruit over the mouth piece listening impatiently as she heard the stream of juices rushing inside.

By the time the king finished his chore with the tent, Sarah was downing the last bite of a muffin and swigging from the canteen. She passed it to Jareth and encouraged him to drink as well. Of course he hesitated, but when the sweet familiar smell filled his nose, he reconsidered. "Where'd you get orange juice?" he asked the mortal.

"From oranges," she replied. The mythicals of the Underground weren't the only one's who could play these games.

One eye half closed in her direction, knowing full well he'd asked the wrong question. "Where did you get oranges from?"

"I made them from stones," Sarah said as if it were something she did every morning at home.

"Well it's quite good." Was that a compliment from the fearsome Goblin King? Sarah smiled as he handed her back the canteen. "Are your things packed?"

"All but this canteen," she told him. As had become customary, he knelt at her feet and gave her the leg up she needed to mount Chataigne. A full day's ride lie ahead of them

Close to the Labyrinth's walls, they rode on. In the distance Sarah could see the southwestern sector. The pond she had visited only days earlier still half frozen over and reflecting the sun like a large mirror laid on the ground. She smiled remembering Gandor and what he had done to Tiberon. "Jareth," she called. His head turned slowly over his right shoulder looking at her oddly, for they didn't engage in much conversation when they rode. "Can we go through there?" Sarah asked pointing to the southwest sector.

"No, we're riding north."

"But we're so close. I'd like to say hello to Gandor."

Jareth brought Bagheera to a dead stop. "How do you know Gandor?"

What was the big deal? "He helped out with a little problem I was having with Tiberon."

"Tiberon! Gandor! Well, have you met the Triumvirate too? Is this trip in vain? Who gave you permission to go milling about introducing yourself to anyone you please? I'll have their heads for this insubordination. Someone should have reported you to me immediately." The king was beyond furious.

"I don't see what the big deal is. I stayed with Hoggle for a couple of days before I came into the Labyrinth. When we were walking home we ran into Tiberon. He was a bit," her mind searched frantically for a word that would sum things up without further infuriating the king, "overbearing."

No such luck keeping her innuendo under Jareth's radar. "What do you mean overbearing?"

"He was very suggestive with me."

While his demeanor remained no more irate than it had been before her confession, his insides boiled. So when his informants told him that Tiberon intended to court a woman, it was Sarah who was the woman of which they spoke. Had he not made it clear fifteen years ago that this mortal was his? "And you were responsive to his suggestion?"

"No!" He eyed her as if he had trouble understanding her response. Sarah repeated, "No, I was not. In fact, there was this rabbit who Hoggle tricked into helping us. He got Gandor to threaten Tiberon and he never bothered me after that." She smiled at him coyly in an attempt to diffuse the situation, "Are you jealous?"

"Don't be ridiculous! It could have been a very dangerous situation for you is all. Tiberon has always had a chip on his shoulder when it comes to me and I hate to think of what he could be capable of. Why I wouldn't be surprised if it had been him who released the Pooka into my Labyrinth the night it found you." For a minute the anger faded from Jareth's face and Sarah thought she saw concern. "Now, if you continue to waste time, we will be late for our meeting with the Triumvirate."

Who was he to open a can of worms, yell at her, insinuate such things and then just turn his stallion around and ride away as if nothing had ever happened, all under the guise of keeping to a schedule? "You're right Jareth. Perhaps I ought to pick up the pace a little. Yah!" She cried digging her heals into Chataigne's sides. The horse broke into a graceful trot and with another quick jab, a thunderous gallop. Sarah was wild in the wind, feeling like an extension of the gelding. The world around her a blur in the creature's wake. The gently rolling hills her playground. A wide smile spread over her face as she succumbed to all the freedom the Underground had to offer.

"Yah, yah," Jareth cried behind her as his heals stabbed into Bagheera's sides encouraging him to catch the young gelding. "Sarah! Sarah!" the king repeatedly shouted in a vain effort to regain her attention, but she was lost to a magic of her own, shared between woman and beast. As much as Jareth knew he had to stop her, he was not blind to how fabulous she looked as the sun reflected off the rich blackness of her hair. A few strands had come loose from the bun she'd wound that morning and trailed behind her like an extension of the golden's mane. Chataigne's coat was alive with light, giving them a certain hazy dream like quality as they cut through the air, his hooves barely touching the ground. The smile on the mortal's face genuine, spurned from true enthusiasm. "Sarah please!"

Pulling back on the reins of the speeding creature brought an abrupt halt to joy ride. "What did you say?"

"You don't even know where you're going and the horse is going to tire long before we reach water if you continue riding him that way." All the gentility from his voice gone.

"I was just trying to make up time." She said it meekly, as if it had been Karen complaining once again about whatever it was Sarah couldn't do properly. It made her skin crawl and her stomach turn to hear Jareth evoke that kind of tone from her.

"Well don't bother. You'll only set us behind in other ways with foolish stunts like these!" Turning Bagheera he walked the horse in front of Chataigne and they began their course again. "Stay behind me," he reminded her as she flapped her gelding's reins.

"Stay behind me," she mimicked when he turned back to face front. Even though the king's temper had stolen her joy, she couldn't help but look on in appreciation at the lands over which they traveled. She had never seen the Underground so lush and full of color. It was as if an artist's pallet had dumped over and spilled on what was she recalled primarily a wasteland of black and ruddy orange. The sun was directly overhead as they came upon a little stream over which the light shimmered and waved.

"Jareth, maybe we should stop and water the horses?" He did not respond. "Jareth, I think we need to let the horses rest and drink a while." Still no reply. "Jareth!"

"I will tell you when we stop." His voice was low and cold.

Chataigne was eager for a sip from the stream but followed his master's commands to press on. They crested a large hill on the other side of the stream and Sarah gasped at what she saw. There was a huge waterfall that was the source of the stream they had passed. Lush vegetation, trees with vines and flowers the colors of which she had never seen before. In the distance she could see fairies playing, but they made a quick departure when Jareth charged his stallion up to the edge of the pool which had formed at the foot of the waterfall.

"It's paradise," Sarah said as she looked around.

Seeing her in such wonder thrilled the king, "This has always been my favorite part of the Underground."

A foggy image began to clear in Sarah's mind, "I've seen this before."

The king's pride deflated, 'Who had dared to bring her here?' he wondered.

"On your bed, it's carved into the footboard. This exact scene!"

Pride replenished, he confirmed, "Indeed. This is where I plan to retire myself someday when I am able to pass on my throne."

"You mean you wouldn't want to be king forever?" Sarah asked.

Jareth's words echoed in his mind sardonically, 'It's only forever. Not long at all.' Being king forever was a concept no mortal could understand. He was king because he had to be and, while it brought along with it a few moments he managed to enjoy, it was more or less a hassle. Had he not been king, he would have never met Sarah and by now would have been contentedly living in one of the green patches of this sector with a fey woman of his own and perhaps a few offspring as well. "You don't realize the true meaning of forever, Sarah." His words were heavy as they escaped his lips. Sarah realized that in fact she didn't realize the true meaning of forever. Being mortal, the word was often bantered about to mean any lengthy time period which could range in increments of weeks to years. Forever in an immortal sense was more than she could fathom.

They set to preparing lunch. Sarah cut some of the meats and cheeses, while Jareth watered the horses and removed their packs so they could rest. He came to the shade of the tree where Sarah had set lunch out for them near the water's edge. The king nibbled at a hunk of bread torn from the loaf Sarah unwrapped. "Not hungry?" she asked. His appetite had been quite good in what time they had spent together.

Jareth shrugged. "Guess I just didn't think about what it would be like here. Last time I heard, this place was much different."

"How's that?" When his eyes looked at her filled with sadness she answered her own question. Feeling stupid for not thinking it was her rejection that had ruined this paradise for him, she offered him a glass of mead and did her best to smile. She had hoped her question would remain unanswered, carried off by the warm breeze that blew around them, but no such luck.

"Everything here had dried up, the waterfall was as dry and deserted as your Grand Canyon. The overgrowth was completely bare, the grass more like straw, what managed to continue living here came out of hiding only at night when the temperature was manageable. Suffice it to say that things here were not going well." Shrugging, the king reached for a hunk of cured meat. That's when he noticed Sarah had stopped eating in lieu of starring out into space. "But what's done is done," he added.

"But that's exactly it, Jareth." She watched his eyes close when she spoke his name. "What's done is now undone, and will be done again. I'm going to meet with the Triumvirate tomorrow, if they send me home the Labyrinth will begin to crumble again."

"Honestly Sarah, you give yourself entirely too much credit. So you restored a little vitality to this place, but tomorrow when," he stressed, "the Triumvirate sends you home, they'll give me back my magic and then the Labyrinth won't need you anymore. It's king will have been made whole and life here will return to normal." Jareth rose to his feet and walked away feigning some interest in a group of plants near the rock formation to the side of the waterfall. What he had told her had been only half of the truth. Most likely the Triumvirate would send her home when they met tomorrow night and most definitely were they to do that he would be given the whole of his magic back, but the Labyrinth would always need Sarah Williams, for without her, the king could never be whole, life could never be normal.

There were tears in her mortal eyes as she packed up the food they had barely touched. It had crossed her mind that she wouldn't be welcomed, but not needed, that was a new emotion entirely. She certainly needed the Labyrinth, needed Hoggle and Drema and all of her friends. She even needed Jareth. If what Drema had told her was true, then of course the Labyrinth should have needed her in return, but apparently it didn't. Back home she'd draw a hot bath and sink inside the water until her troubles washed away, down the drain and out to sea. Lost fingers trolled through the water, it was warm and clear. Her body felt heavy with sweat from riding, with grime from sleeping on the ground and with the weight of the worries on her mind.

"I want to take a bath," she announced.

The king turned to look at her, "You want to what?"

"Take a bath. I feel disgusting from not bathing in days. If I'm going to meet this Triumvirate of yours tomorrow, I think I should clean up some. Take me somewhere that I can do just that."

Laughter broke his solemn reflection, "Your standing beside the last place you'll see water between here and the mountains. Unless you want to bathe in the cold mountain streams, I suggest you partake of the pleasures of the waterfall."

"Here! Out in the open? Are you mad?"

"All the same to me. I'm not the one who's complaining about needing a bath. Your options are such as your options are. Sometimes our desires are not always fulfilled by the universe."

Sarah grunted at him, hating how he got so philosophical when she was tormented. "Fine!" she declared standing by the water's edge. "Turn around."

"Why?"

"Because I'm not going to jump in there with my clothes on. Better yet, wander off somewhere. You can holler for me when it's almost time to go." She sounded like a princess commanding a hand maiden.

"Holler for you?" He looked at her indignantly, his hands folded across his chest.

"You know, holler. Shout. Call for me." She thought he had misunderstood the word, but more to the point, Jareth had failed to see why he should be made to participate in this little distraction of hers.

In truth they had no time for this frivolity, but curiosity getting the better of him, he allowed the mortal to dig her own hole. She had put her wants above her means and, as of yet, not considered the implications. He would watch, wait, see what happened when recognition set in. "As you wish," he said with a sneer as he turned to walk into the overgrowth.

Before removing a stitch of clothing, she looked all about to be sure nothing could see her. Had she bothered to look up, she may have noticed a fey dressed in black leather and a cream shirt which almost matched the highlights in his blonde mane, perched on the rocks above the fall, his chin resting in his hands a wicked grin upon his lips. For now his position was safe. Sarah slid into the water. At the edge she could touch bottom, but as she swam further out where there was no silt for her toes to settle in. There she could feel the pounding of the water as it crashed over the rock ledge and disheveled the still pond beneath. It was better than jets in a hot tub. More invigorating and with the blue sky to smile down upon her far more scenic. Undoing what was left of the bun in her hair, Sarah allowed the tendrils to soak up the tropical moisture. The king looked on approvingly as she dipped her head back allowing the tops of her breasts to break the water's surface. 'My but she is a brazen mortal when she thinks no one's watching,' he thought.

Sarah dove under the water, amazed at how much she could see, enchanted by the foaming swirls being created by the fall. Swimming under them she let the pressure crash into her, it felt divine, like a massage that dug into all her muscles at once. On the other side of the falls, she found a grotto barely lit by the sun's rays. The water here was still and calm. Sarah walked up the bank. The floor of the grotto was stone and slick, her bare feet skidding with every step. In the mouth of the grotto she could stand completely erect. Tunnels led away from the mouth seeming to narrow as they went on. She peeked down each of the three tunnels she could see. Nothing fantastic caught her eye at first. Just wet stone walls smoothed by years of friction from the water. It was the last tunnel she looked in which made her stop and inch forward. Just inside the third tunnel off to the right, tucked in to a dug out section of the stone wall was something large, pot bellied, black that didn't dare to catch the sun and shimmy the way the walls did. She ran her hand over it, smooth, metallic. On its top, her hand discovered a plank of wood which she slid aside. Sarah peered eagerly into the container. The glare forced her to close her eyes and turn away. More slowly she tried to refocus on her find, using her palm to shield her eyes this time. What had turned the sun's love against her was none other than a pile of gold coins. 'Real gold coins,' she thought, for they sparkled as if they were real. She ran her hand through the pile, selecting just one for closer inspection. Each was stamped with a four leaf clover and the words _Erin Go Braugh_.

While the mortal marveled at her discovery, Jareth was fretting from his perch. He had seen her dive beneath the water's surface, watched as her perfectly heart shaped buttocks rose and fell, but it had been some time now and she had not resurfaced. He quickly made his way to the bank and called for her. Upon hearing the Goblin King shout, Sarah returned the wooden cover to the treasure and dove back into the calm water's of the grotto so she could again pierce the thundering downpour of the falls and resurface back out in the pond. Relief washed over Jareth when he again set eyes on his mortal. Before he could cover his anxiety by telling her it was time they go, she slicked back her hair and told him of her discovery. "Real gold coins, in a huge, well, pot and ..." the more she spoke the more she felt insane. "I'm not making it up," she said before he'd even had the opportunity to accuse of her of spurting tall tales. "The coins all have four leaf clovers on them and some funny name, Erin something."

Never tired of showing some amusement at her naivety, Jareth laughed once more, "Erin Go Braugh." The way he said it made it seem ancient and mystic, making Sarah forget that she was in a very clear body of water and Jareth was now in full view. She covered herself with her hands and came closer to the shore where he would have to very obviously strain to see her.

Despite his disappointment, he did his best to keep his eyes where they should have been as he told her, "You have found the leprechaun's gold. Each coin stamped with a shamrock, four leaves to represent hope, faith, love and luck. A rare find even here in a land of mythicals. This 'name' you speak of is an Irish phrase, Erin Go Braugh, to mean Ireland forever." His hands held his hips and he bent back in laughter. "So you've out witted the imp without even knowing it."

"Pot of gold," she recited in recognition. "You mean that what I found back there ..."

"Is the proverbial pot of gold." He finished her thought. "Indeed it is." The king's laughter was still uncontrollable and catching so that it made Sarah laugh along with him.

"Leprechauns, the Easter Bunny, Santa Clause. What am I going to find here next?"

Jareth stooped down resting his forearms against his knees. "This world is filled with more legend and lore than even you could imagine my little dreamer. Oh but this, this," he said as his chuckling overtook him, "takes the prize. I've threatened for years to find his gold. 'What will you do with it then Goblin King?'" Jareth imitated the heavy Irish accent of a leprechaun. "I don't know that I'd tell him and neither will you. As you know I have no need for his riches, but the little fellow nerved me and I wanted to put him on edge. Now he'll come back to his grotto and know that someone has touched his treasure. Don't ask me how, but he'll know. Then, the best part, he'll scurry around for days trying to find a hiding spot as good as this where he thinks he can elude me. It'll make him crazy and I owe it all to you!" A long finger stretched out and smoothed over the tip of her nose.

"That seems rather cruel don't you think?"

"Oh please," he said waving a gloved hand at her. "They're the ultimate con men leprechauns are. Shoemakers to the fairies by day, but when evening comes they drink themselves stupid on their heather ale and whiskey. Blowing smoke rings as they puff away on their tobacco pipes. They're all manic depressive, paranoid little buggers. Why not have a bit of fun with them?"

"I suppose if it's in fun, there's no harm to it." Sarah grew uncomfortable being naked in the water before him as he loomed so close on the shore. "Do you think you might get me a towel?"

Ah ha, now the impracticality of her desires was hitting her. "Where do you suppose they keep those out here in the middle of paradise?"

"Jareth, I need a towel," Sarah told him sternly.

"That may be true, Sarah, but I have no towel to offer and no power over you with which to create one." He turned his palms up displaying his helplessness.

"Well what do you suggest I do then?"

"I would think that staying in the water won't make you any less wet." A devilish grin wound across his lips as he stood.

"You don't actually think I'm coming out of here with you standing right there do you?"

"I doubt that you will, but the fact of the matter remains, we have an appointment to keep and there is very little time for fooling around."

The tone of his voice was infuriating. He clearly saw this dilemma when first she asked about bathing, knew it was coming and waited for this moment like a jungle cat waits for its prey to make a wrong move. On top of that, he was turning it around on her, blaming her for causing them another delay. What Jareth had not counted on was that Sarah would challenge him at his own game, push him to the limits he so enjoyed testing her with. Her knees were buried in the silt as she fought to keep her femininity below the water. The mortal rocked back onto her heals brushing the dirt and sand from her knees and stood. Water poured from her shoulders, the ends of her long black hair still dripping. Streams poured over her breasts and down her torso to her waist where the surface of the pond welcomed them home. Her eyes met Jareth's. 'Two can play this game,' she thought smiling back at him in a way that let him know she had the upper hand. Arms straight at her sides, Sarah made no attempt to shroud her nudity. Instead, keeping his gaze, she began to step slowly from her position in the pool closer to the bank. The water lowered, inch by inch, as she drew nearer to the king. He had meant to keep himself focused on her penetrating green eyes, but as the sun took to drying her tender exposed flesh, it made tiny rainbows in the droplets of water which drew the attention he had tried to control. The slender line of her neck, the way her collar bone held just a little more moisture in a sweet puddle on her shoulder, the ampleness of her breasts, each darkened nipple erect in reaction to the breeze blowing across her skin. Even the Cleric would have shifted his gaze away from her eyes. What's more, the water continued to dip as she advanced revealing her voluptuous curves, the hollow of her navel. Jareth's heart pounded in his chest. She was beautiful indeed. The soft curling locks of her womanhood were matted to her skin as she broke free, emerging further towards the shore. By now, the king's mouth was hanging open, he knew it was. Sarah could see this as her gaze remained solidly upon his face. She wanted to examine him more closely allow her eyes to wander the way his had and survey any changes that may have been taking place in his own body. She would have expected his attention to focus on her more sexual features, but he continued to lower his stare as she rose further out of the pond, rolling over the curve of her legs, right down to her toes as they met dry land.

For a moment she stood, completely still, completely bare before him and let him have his look. When her advances began again, he brought his eyes back up the length of her well developed body, rising higher the closer she came. When she was at last within arm's reach he met her stare, a strange look came over his face. Sarah thought it was embarrassment when the blush came rushing into his cheeks and his still open mouth made no sound. Blue eyes, like pieces of sky cut down from the heavens, were all she saw, so close to him that barely air separated their bodies. Sarah's eyes never wavered, never closed, as she leaned up to him, her lips a breath away from his own, parted, her soft pink tongue coating them with moisture before it disappeared back into her mouth, "Then I suppose I'll have to make my own." Her lips pursed together as she finished the sentence. If Jareth hadn't been in shock he would have kissed her then and there. Not out of love, not out of lust, but out of a passion he had until now never felt. An appreciation for the female form like he had never known before had filled the king as he dreamed of something that was between the intimacy he sought from her Aboveground and raw sex. He wanted to explore her, observe her reaction to his touch and it didn't need to culminate in an act of sex or love making to be valuable.

Before he could indulge in any of the things that paraded through his mind she backed away, keeping her strides long as she went toward the thick foliage behind him. The Goblin King watched her walk away, not without noticing the smooth way her legs passed over one another, like a cricket making beautiful music in the night, paying careful attention to the muscles of her backside as they shifted with each step as hypnotizing as the pendulum of a clock. Sarah pulled a full leaf off one of the trees and smoothed her hand over it as she held it by the stem. Her magic created a thick pink towel which she wrapped around her frame. Then to add insult to injury, Sarah walked back passed the king, her arms reaching behind her to braid the length of her soaking hair. "Couldn't get me a towel, but I see you're happy to offer me a peg to hang it on." Retrieving her clothes from the bank, she ducked behind the rocks to dress.

Jareth cringed as the mortal's comment started making sense. He shifted his focus from her body to his own, making him very aware of precisely what she meant. He sat against the rocks and drew his knees to his chest, waiting for the discomfort to pass, cursing himself for allowing her to have the upper hand. When she emerged from her hiding place, completely dressed, "Ready to ride?" she asked the king. "We are on a schedule."

At first he just looked at her strutting off to stand beside Chataigne, waiting patiently for him to kneel at her feet, offer his services like the obedient lap dog her little scene had turned him in to. Then the rage came spreading like wild fire in his veins. Storming to her side, he assumed his position. Her foot slid into his grasp only this time Jareth didn't guide her onto the horse's back. He used his strength to knock her back. Sarah's body came down with a thud upon the grass. The king slid his body over hers and she gasped, half from being winded, half from feeling the weight of him on top of her again. His long fingers wrapped around her wrists and threw Sarah's arms above her head. Like a flickering light her eyes flashed from his eyes to his lips. If it were up to her she'd will him to bring his perfect mouth crashing down on top of hers. Instead the king's breath toasted her neck, wafted over her cheek, his mouth hovered just above her own. "You should be more careful when choosing a partner to spar with Sarah. I am a master of more than just chess and, while playing with me might bring you fantastic pleasure," to make his point he caressed her arm from wrist to shoulder with the softness of his leather glove, "you will lose." As quickly as he took the spot above her, he left taking a seat atop Bagheera and without looking back, began to ride away.

Putting her weight on her elbows she looked at him. "Where are you going?" Her fists pounded the ground beneath her. "Jareth? How am I supposed to follow you if I can't get on my horse?" She struggled to her feet. "I need a leg up." She tried to say it sincerely, almost apologetically.

Bagheera halted. Jareth looked at her from his stallion's back, "Mount your own damn horse."

Nothing made sense. Not the way that he infuriated her at the same time he enticed her or the way he could switch from loving her to loathing her. This would not be her undoing. She was nothing if not determined. Carefully she led Chataigne to the rocks, then climbed them at the horse's nearside and took advantage of the added height to mount the gelding. Her heals dug in his girth and in minutes she was back at Jareth's side.

"Brava," he said stiffly.

Taunt after taunt teased her tongue before she decided that having caught up to him was enough. She'd already pushed quite a few of his buttons, gotten his ire up, among other things.

In silence they left the edge of the northwest sector as night fell. Jareth made camp at the base of the mountain before flying off to fish in one of the nearby streams. Sarah stoked the fire until it blazed hot enough to cook by. Impressed by his catch of trout, she gratefully accepted the contribution, cleaning, filleting and cooking them herself while the king unpacked the horses. By the fire's glow they devoured the fish. Sarah had always known where fish came from although it seemed different when packaged in a yellow box that read Morton's across the top, but for something she had seen still twitching with life and was now consuming, it wasn't half bad. They polished off the remainder of the mead, even as the alcohol loosened their tension, their tongues remained tied. No words exchanged between them until it was time to bed down for the night.

"Don't tell me, you're going off to find a cozy tree?" Sarah asked as she slipped into the tent to change into her night shirt.

"Evergreens don't make for good sleeping." It was the first he'd spoken since early that afternoon.

Hopefulness filled her briefly, "Give me a minute to change and then you're welcome to come in."

"That won't be necessary. The Supreme One has given me a bountiful supply of land for my bed tonight."

Wardrobe change complete, Sarah climbed between the blankets inside the tent. Tonight it seemed larger. The only thought she could keep in her mind was the memory of the Goblin King hovering above her. Drops began to ricochet off the canvas disrupting her illusions. It was raining, a downpour that came from nowhere and yet when Sarah peered up at the sky, storm clouds were everywhere. The drops which bathed her face felt warm, not as warm as the water in the pond, but tepid and not completely uncomfortable.

"Jareth?" she called above the thunder, her bare feet plodding through the wet grass. Looking around all sides of the camp, Sarah was still unable to locate him. She began pacing in concentric circles, now soaked to the bone herself, until she tripped over a lump on the ground.

The king sat upright at the disturbance. "What? What is it?"

"You mean to tell me you didn't notice the rain?" Sarah asked him.

"In fact, I had not. I did notice your foot in my side, however."

"Come into the tent?"

"No."

"You're getting soaked."

"No, thank you."

Sarah stood indignantly before him her arms folded across her chest. The shirt she wore was molded to her form with wetness and Jareth could just make out her shapely legs by what little light the moon offered through the clouds. "Fine, then I'll just stay out here all night with you."

"Would you stop being ridiculous? Get back in the tent before you catch your death."

"If you aren't going I'm not going."

"If I have to pick you up and throw you back inside that thing, I will."

'Just as you did the night you thought I was trying to escape,' she thought as she stood motionless in the downpour.

"Fine, have it your way." Jareth scooped her up in his arms. She watched his face, rain pouring over it, his usually full hair hung clinging to his skin. "Do you have any idea what an enormous pain you can be at times? I try my best, I really do, to put up with your mortal ways, but it gets less easy the more time I am forced to spend with you."

"Bet you can't wait to see me leave?" she asked him removing one hand from around his neck to wipe the rain from her face.

Jareth looked at her, his mouth open as if he had more to say, but then it shut and his eyes were facing forward again. When they reached the tent door, he kicked open the flap and moved to toss her inside, only Sarah didn't let go of the hold she had around his neck. Surprisingly, she caught her balance quickly which made him stumble a few feet forward. Sarah stared at his face. He continued to look out over her, passed the tent at something in the distance, as if there were no woman dangling before him. He looked so helpless, defenseless, like any mortal man. Drenched by the pouring rain, this regal king was no more than a common man who no longer intimidated the common woman inside of Sarah. She no longer worried that she wasn't saying the right things, doing the right things, for who was there left to impress? Surely not this common man. If for just an instant, she felt a superiority over him, and without using sex or magic.

Still draped around his neck, Sarah's arm's pulled the king closer as her toes gave her the added inches she needed to reach her goal. In comparison to the tepid rain, his lips felt hot on hers. For a second it was just two mouths pressed against one another, but when he didn't pull away, Sarah's confidence soared. She opened her mouth enough to slip his bottom lip inside, massaging it with her own. Jareth was barely able to continue focusing on the spot in the distance he had chosen. The rain had made his shirt feel thin, as thin as Sarah's, allowing her erect nipples to graze his chest as she gnawed at him. Her tongue smoothed over his lip and like a trap door his eyes snapped shut, his arms clenched her waist and his mouth returned her affections.

There was a small but audible intake of air that could be heard when the king did this before his deepening kiss rendered Sarah incapable of sound. Suddenly she understood how it was that he had not felt the rain. She now felt little more than his hands, his mouth, his body pressed against hers. Just as she'd settled into the comfort of his closeness, he hoisted her into his arms once more. Their lips parted in a brief hiatus, as Jareth continued with what he had come here to do in the first place. He took Sarah into the tent and lay her on the blankets inside. "Do you have something dry in your bag?"

Her eyes conveyed her confusion. What did he care? Weren't they just in the middle of something more important, something that was just as happy to not have to deal with clothing, wet or dry? "Jareth," she said softly as she knelt before him, untucking the sopping shirt from his leather breeches and trailing her heated lips left to right across his waist. The king sunk to his knees. Leather clad hands grasped the sides of her face, his thumbs stroking her jaw, without a word he pulled her mouth to his and they resumed the kiss which had begun outside. Sarah pulled away first, gasping for air. Her chest heaving, her body shivering a little from the cold that was now beginning to set in. Jareth rested his forehead against hers as he undid the buttons of the plain cotton shirt. Each plastic disc he managed to conquer revealed more of her perfect skin. He watched his hands, watched her chest rise and fall in an erratic rhythm. When the last button had been undone, he returned his eyes to hers seeking her permission.

Rather than speak and break the intensity of the silence between them, she rolled back her shoulders, which caused her chest to jut forward some. She was surprised at the warmth which radiated from his leather clad hands even though they too had been soaked with rain. The material slid from her shoulders with his guidance. Once removed it was tossed aside where it could not continue to further saturate the bedding. He looked at her, surprised that she was now completely naked. He'd expected the panties from the other night to be there keeping him from seeing all of her, but there was no obstruction to his view. While the Goblin King became transfixed on her form, Sarah slid her hands under his shirt slipping it over his torso, encouraging him to raise his arms so that the garment could be completely disregarded. She pressed herself against him, naked chest against naked chest. Her eager mouth kissing his neck and shoulder, daring to dip to his chest. Jareth's mouth hung open in delight as she continued her assault on his senses.

Where as the thrill of his touch made her gasp and pant, the king's breaths became deep and steady in an effort to control himself. Sarah sat back, uncertain if she had offended him. Jareth sat back too, only less to observe her and more to remove his boots. With them out of the way his breeches slid off easily and were added to the pile of discarded garments in the corner of the tent. Sarah took him in, his long sinewy body, bare before her for the first time. Suddenly he was magical again, more than a man, more than a fey. Intimidation returned to her eyes. He peeled back the blankets and Sarah slid inside. How he loved to watch her move. Every muscle of her body rolling beneath her pink skin as arms and legs bent or waist shifted. It was like watching a piece of art come to life. He too slid beneath the blankets. Room for a third person between them, Jareth remained propped on one elbow gazing down at the woman whose eyes had yet to leave him.

Reaching a hand for his hip Sarah pulled herself closer to him, her neck stretching until she could capture his mouth with hers. Jareth ached for her. In one weak moment he had dropped his defenses and allowed all the old feelings to flood his heart. Still propped on one elbow he returned her kisses, their tongues battling for control over one another, exploring the cavity of her mouth, gently stroking over her palette, her taste still sweet with the lingering honey from the mead. The king made no attempt to pull her close, but no attempt to push her away either. Sarah groaned into his mouth, hungry for him, her body crying for satisfaction.

His face grew serious as he tried to explain without words that as much as he wanted her, wanted this it could never be. As it were, he had to try to suppress his feelings enough to retain what remained of his soul, finding his pleasure within her would cost him everything. 'Then again,' he thought as his hands caressed her, "There was no harm in his pleasing his mortal.' With tenderness his hands manipulated the most personal places as his mouth prevented hers from raising objection or pleading for what he could not give her. In his mind he thought only about the physical gratification of. It was an act of passion and not of love, it had to be.

Sarah's entire body shook with satisfaction when her release finally came and she called out into the night, an audible, but indecipherable, cry. Jareth marveled at what he had managed to evoke in her. What a curious physical reaction orgasm was?

Moments later, his mortal hung above him, her lips covering his in sweetness and gratitude. He tried to ignore her lips as they trailed over him chaotically, not knowing what to kiss first or how long to stay in any one spot. Sarah hadn't had this kind of opportunity with Christian. She wasn't the experienced lover Jareth had been. Feeling the fool for even trying to compete with him, she recalled his words, 'I wonder what your basis for comparison is.' He felt her lips smile against his skin. She felt reckless and brazen as teased at his manhood. What she found as she explored him was impressive in size and stature. When she dared take hold him her fingertips failed to meet and on sight - beautiful - just like the rest of him. Focusing on the physical sensation proved more than Jareth could handle at that point and he inhaled sharply through his nose. The first of any sound he'd made since Sarah had been with him Aboveground.

When his mortal ceased all motion, disappointment overcame him until he opened his eyes to find her porcelain face before his once more. Throwing her near leg over his waist, she leaned down to kiss him. A giggle came from her throat as if this game they played filled her with some childlike delight, as if she felt as reckless and carefree as she did when she was eight. He smiled at her. Sarah twisted her hips in an effort to better align with him, but just as she was about to connect their bodies, the king stilled her hips with his strong hands. "Sarah, I can't love you." He closed his eyes and bit into his lip. 'Fool!' he thought for he had meant to say he could not make love to her.

Shock fluttered his lids open when she descended on him regardless and whispered into his ear, "Sometimes Jareth, these things aren't always about love. Sometimes sex is just sex."

For a moment he wondered if that were possible. Could sex be nothing more than sex with her? Surely, it had been with so many other women who had come to his chambers and stayed in his bed. But this was different. When he took them, it was this mortal's face he envisioned. There was no love to be suppressed, for he loved none of them. Now he lie motionless within his mortal, at the base of a mountain, an open field their home, a canvas tent their chamber. The rain continued to pound outside. The face he had been forced to imagine there for him to gaze upon at his will. Forcing back his heart's involvement in his body's act, once again he reminded himself, 'No harm can come from my pleasing my mortal.'

When he had done his best to satisfy her without also satisfying himself, in the night, where the dark hid his tear filled eyes, Jareth held Sarah close to him. She snuggled under his arm, her head on his chest, her hand trolling over his muscles. The passion had ended. He was free to love her again, as she slept, when neither lips nor loins were joined. His quivering lips met her forehead before he too, closed his eyes and prayed that, with her ear pressed to his ribs, she would not hear his heart break.


	18. Chapter 18

**CHAPTER EIGHTEEN - LEST NOT YE BE JUDGED**

Waking up in the arms of the Goblin King was never anything Sarah Williams had intended to do and yet, there she was, her back pressed against his chest, his long blonde hair hanging over her shoulder, two leather gloves clamped about her waist. Glancing back she found his eyes still shut, a contentedness about him. She kissed his lips softly, regretting what she had said the other night. Sex could be just sex with anyone else, that was what she meant, but at that moment she'd have given all she had to be with him. It didn't matter if he didn't love her. She would be leaving him in a short while, never permitted back, this was her last chance. Under the cover of night, with the rain and her own perspiration to mask her tears, Sarah had made love to her king, even though he would never know. Closing her eyes once more she settled into him, folding her hands over his gloves, happy to wait for him to awake.

Jareth wasn't sleeping. While he lie there with his mortal in his arms, he thought about what the day stood to bring them. Today, the Triumvirate would tear them from one another and he kicked himself for not giving himself to her the night before. What did he stand to lose really? Hindsight was always 20/20. Whatever he gave to her last night the Triumvirate would have given back to him when they sent her home. He tried to rationalize, telling himself there were the mortal consequences of pregnancy for which they had taken no precaution. 'Sometimes sex is just sex,' he repeated in his head. Maybe she was right. Maybe sex was always just sex and love was what came afterwards. He wondered if he would ever find anyone who made him want to give himself away after they tore Sarah from his grasp, anyone who would make him risk what he had risked with her, who could still touch him after so much time had passed. Jareth stopped breathing when she kissed him, afraid to stir, to break the bond they had. When he felt her hair in his face he opened his eyes and looked at her. This was the last thing he had planned on and yet, he had never felt happier in his life. His grip around her tightened and he allowed sleep to take him over once more. Today, there would not be any schedule he decided. Damn the Triumvirate. They would arrive in their own time. Knowing them, their decision was already made and nothing king nor mortal could say would matter. What time they had left would be theirs.

When at last she woke again, Sarah was nose to nose with the king, his mismatched blue eyes surveying her face. "Hello," he said to her, a small smile across his lips.

"Hi," she replied and turned her face away as the blush ran into her cheeks. Things were different by the light of a new day. It was sunny and she could clearly see every feature of his face which was more honesty than she was ready for. "What time is it?" she asked in an attempt to mask her awkwardness.

"I imagine it's getting close to noon. I've been feeling the sun on my back for a couple of hours now."

"A couple of hours! Why didn't you wake me?" She said looking at him, hoping he would tell her that last night had changed him somehow. Perhaps he had been lying awake trying to come up with a plan that would allow them to avoid the Triumvirate all together.

The forefinger of his left hand tucked some of her hair behind her ear, "Didn't seem important to wake you," he told her with an intense stare. "You need your rest if we're to face the Triumvirate today."

So much for that. Sarah sat up taking the some of the blankets with her, leaving Jareth exposed to the waist. He propped up onto his elbows, "Don't tell me you're suddenly afraid of facing the Triumvirate?"

She was. Suddenly she was. The king was no longer someone she wanted to set things straight with. Her adventure to tie up loose ends had only succeeded in giving her more ends to tie. Where he couldn't see, she wiped a tear from her eyes, "No, of course not." Nothing in her tone was convincing.

Jareth sat beside her, his arm around her shoulders, his lips dancing over the skin above her collarbone. "Don't be afraid. You're going home, that is what you wanted, isn't it?"

Sarah didn't know what she wanted anymore. There wasn't much to go home to, not anymore, but staying here didn't seem right. Would she be trading one man who didn't love her for another? Besides she was mortal, she didn't belong in a world full of mythicals. Where did she belong? Tears streamed from her eyes, hot drops of liquid pain. It didn't matter if Jareth saw. "I want to get dressed."

The king released his hold on her. She remained curled in a ball, knees drawn to her chest, arms folded over her knees. He watched her for a long moment, aware of the water which poured from her eyes, but afraid to ask what was the matter. He could surmise, after all, he knew her well, better than she would have liked. To any other person Aboveground, Sarah's sex is just sex philosophy could have applied, but not to her. She felt things with a depth that most humans didn't have. Otherwise, Jareth and his Underground would have long since been forgotten when Sarah had left all her other fairytales behind. While Jareth knew she didn't love him, he also knew he could settle for nothing less. He had offered her commitment and she had refused him. There was nothing more that he could do. Frustrated he reached for their clothes, they were all still soaked. "I think you best choose something from the bag Arulan packed. You're shirt is still sopping wet."

"What about your clothes?"

"Still wet, but I don't see where my getting dressed has any impact on you, so my magic should be able to dry them straight away." Grabbing her bag, he set it at her side.

"I can't get dressed with you in here."

He looked at her, one eyebrow cocked, gauging her rationale. "You can't be serious. You were in this tent last night, were you not?"

"It was dark in here last night."

It amazed him how perfectly her cheek fit into his palm as he turned her eyes toward him. "Afraid I would keep you here if I saw your perfection in the light are you? Then I shall be your Cupid, love, and come to you only when we have night to hide us." Jareth wanted to kiss her, but there was love inside his heart and he forced himself to resist. Magnificently, he stood before her with little more than leather gloves and an air of confidence to wear. A turn of his wrist and his clothes were dry, perfectly pressed and covering the lithe body that Sarah could still feel against hers, even his hair restored to its usually flawlessness.

If she didn't know better, she would have called his bluff for saying he couldn't love her. No man was capable of saying such things with both tenderness and sincerity when he wasn't in love, but this was no man, this was Jareth, the Goblin King, and his words were always exactly as he meant them to be. Until he left the tent, Sarah managed not to cry.

Chataigne whinnied when Sarah came out of the tent. Returning his affections, she reached for his blaze, making long strokes against the horse's snout. When she became aware of the king's eyes upon her she tied her pack on the gelding's rump and went back to dismantle the tent.

"Come have something to eat before you do that," Jareth called to Sarah.

She was hungry. She joined him on a blanket where he had laid out their food and the bottle from the mead, which he had filled with spring water while she dressed. Sarah ate hardily, but said nothing. It wasn't that she didn't have anything to say. Only that now, here, with him, things like 'thanks for last night' and 'you were definitely the best I've ever had' seemed trite. In fact, she no longer knew what to say. Instead she looked into the mountains where they would soon ride and wondered what this Triumvirate would do to her. Inside she screamed, 'Don't, please, don't make me go!' Her cries would never meet the wind.

Beginning to think he should have refused her, held fast to the anger he had cultivated for so long and refused her what she wanted in the moment, as he knew her mind would change with morning's arrival, Jareth sighed. What was it about her that he could never deny? Why this woman? Why this mortal? Even now, when their act had been so nearly complete, he longed for her. Emotions didn't come easy to the Goblin King, let alone complex emotions, such as the ones this mortal stirred.

"We should go," Sarah said when she was full. For once it wasn't Jareth who kept them to their schedule. "As it is, we've wasted enough time."

Not exactly the way he would have worded it, but if this was what she wanted, so be it. "As you wish," he told her. "I'll take the tent down, if you'll take care of the food."

Sarah watched him working on the tent as she packed up what little cheese and meat was left and tied the sack to Bagheera's rigging. He was a beautiful stallion. Black from nose to tail, a rich sheen that made him seem to reflect blue patches when the sun shone down upon him. Wild eyes, eyes like his master's. This was no animal that could be caged. She stroked his mane and he snorted as if to say, 'While your touch is pleasing, it is not necessary.' Sarah couldn't help but find it appropriate.

When he returned Jareth added the tent to his stallion's back then stood beside Chataigne waiting for Sarah, "Well, you were in such a hurry, let's go."

In an effort to chase her thought away, Sarah shook her head and blinked her eyes a couple of times before joining the king and her horse. Settling her foot into the cradle of his hands she mounted her horse. 'No turning back now', she thought.

His hand rested on her thigh. She felt his warmth before she noticed the touch. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Sarah told him without looking at him while her heart cried the tears her eyes refused to allow to fall.

Jareth took his place atop Bagheera and snapped the reins to get him moving. Their last day had begun. He tried to be thankful, tried to tell himself that he had four days with a woman he should have never been able to touch again. Memories could never be erased. He would always know the taste of her, the curve of her body, the intimate feel of her. That alone would sustain him another hundred years. Time tended to mean very little to an immortal fey, but these next seven hours or so felt like he was waiting for the end of the world as he knew it.

Riding through the mountains was almost as beautiful as it had been riding through the northwest sector. The climate was warm, even though there were traces of snow here and there. The rock face looked like a painted horse, as spots of brown in all shades peaked out next to the white patches. Chataigne and Bagheera were both very surefooted on the rough terrain, which made Sarah feel comfortable. After a couple hours riding, Jareth pulled his stallion to the side, along a spring and allowed the horse to drink. He too bent down, filling his canteen and taking a long sip. Sarah followed his lead. The mountain air was thinner, harder to breathe and it increased her thirst. Advertisements had long hallowed the famed mountain springs, but they didn't do justice to this. The water was so clear it was like glass. Her face reflected back at her through the water's ripple. Over her shoulder she could see Jareth standing, looking down on her which she wouldn't have known if the stream hadn't revealed his reflection.

She studied their faces a long time getting a good feel for what the two of them looked like together. Her head filled with music, 'There's such a sad love, deep in your eyes. A kind of pale jewel, open and closed within your eyes. I'll place the sky within your eyes.' Sarah thought she saw a cloud pass over her pupil, a trick, the sky and rippling water teamed up to play on her, she was sure. 'As the pain sweeps through, makes no sense for you. Every thrill is gone, wasn't too much fun at all.' Nothing made sense. She came here to do something she had not done, apologize to the Goblin King. She had the opportunity to visit with her friends, both old and new. She had made love to her king. Every thrill was gone! Knowing that in a few brief hours she would leave made it all the worse. She would return to the Aboveground no longer able to settle for Christian, as she had once imagined she might, no longer content with a real world, no longer able to suppress this fey and his kingdom as a fantasy. A few short days ago she feared him just as much as she did in her adolescence. Now, just knowing his eyes were on her filled her with excitement.

"Can we get moving again?" Sarah asked him when the image in the water became too much to bear.

Jareth broke his stare and reached out a hand to help her up. "In a hurry are you?"

"No sense in prolonging the inevitable."

Just like a mortal to assume she knew what was and was not inevitable. "Well then," he said looking at the sky, "it will be starting to get dark again before we reach the Triumvirate. I would suggest we ride together the rest of the way or that I tie Chataigne to Bagheera."

"Why's that?"

"The mountains are not always friendly at night. The things that live here would not waste time with a horse, but mortals are rare in the Underground, even more rarely do they wander into the mountains and I hate to think what an orc or a troll might do to a young girl."

What he said was enough to make Sarah draw into his protective reach. "I'll ride with you then."

Tying Chataigne's reins up with Bagheera's packs, Jareth whispered to the horse, "Stay close and don't wander off. You are a well bred gelding and I would hate to lose you." His glove stroked his blaze. Next he seated himself on the stallion and finally instructed Sarah to lock arms with him so he could swing her up as well. Once everyone was in place, Jareth nudged into Bagheera's sides and they were off. Sarah held to the king's waist, perhaps less hesitantly than before, and allowed her head to rest upon his shoulder. This was precisely how she wanted to spend her last few hours with him.

By the time they'd reached the mountain where the Triumvirate were, it was already getting dim. They still had another two hours ride up the mountain to reach the cave of the Triumvirate. Sarah heard howling wolves and drew closer to the king. Her chin dug into his shoulder, her lips pressed very near his ear. "Don't make me go," Sarah whispered. Jareth's head jerked to his right, his mouth agape, wishing again he hadn't made this damned appointment. A growing heat rose along his jugular as Sarah's lips settled there. Her legs wrapped surely about his waist. Skillfully she slid around to face him, her thighs crossing backward over his. The Goblin King stilled his horse, holding the reins in his left hand which he had draped over Sarah's hip. The other arm slid up the length of her back and drew her nearer to him. Sarah responded, filling her hands with tufts of his blonde hair. Her lips parted as she accepted his mouth over hers. Passing her tongue over his, she settled into his arm, relying on the king to hold her up. Her tongue ran over the edge of his teeth, a small moan escaping as she came in contact with a few of the more jagged ones. Only the cover of night could allow her to kiss him so freely without disclosing any of her hidden feelings for him.

"Sarah," Jareth called as her lips burrowed in his neck, kissing and biting at him expressing her need. "Sarah," he pleaded again. Ruthlessly she continued her assault upon his neck. Roaming, her hands left his blonde nest and traveled over his back and to the open part of his shirt which revealed his chest. "Sarah," he boomed a third time, his hand pushing back her shoulder forcing her to meet him eye to eye. "Our time grows short. We've but two and a half hours to travel a two hour length and creatures to contend with, odds are they won't realize that I am without my magic and shall most likely let us be, but they will not be concerned with our schedule I assure you of that."

Using her legs she pulled herself closer to the king, driving their crotches together. Beginning a soft grinding, the king's hand fell from her shoulder as she held his gaze, "You weren't so concerned with our schedule last night, or this morning."

"No I suppose I wasn't," he retaliated weakly rather enjoying what she had begun. Jareth's mouth tasted her throat, "But you have been quite willing to make time up until now and I must wonder why that is."

Sarah's mind, now distracted by the feel of him against her, worked feverishly to come up with an excuse. She allowed her eyes to open, hoping it would deaden some of the sensation. Behind them Chataigne's packs were being loosened by a gnarled troll. "Jareth," she whispered in his ear. The king tugged at her flesh with his lips. "Jareth," she said more anxiously.

The words she spoke were not the passionate expressions she'd given last night. Confirming what he thought, her face was filled with shock. Slowly he turned around so that he could share her sight. "Stay on the horse. If anything should happen, ride, ride straight up this path until you reach the cave. Once there speak only to the Cleric."

"But," she said reaching for him

He filled her hands with Bagheera's reins. "Only the Cleric, Sarah." Gracefully he dismounted the beast. "How is it that I can help you?" The troll took a moment to pause in his pillaging and looked at the king who loomed ever closer to him, keeping his eye as he undid Chataigne's reins setting the gelding free of the stallion. Sarah was free to run now, if she needed to. A quick glance back and he saw she was face front on his horse ready to follow his directions. Back into the packs the troll began to rummage. "Here now troll, what makes you think I'm going to stand here and watch you steal my things?"

The filthy thing laughed, laughed at a king. Jareth knew the mountain range had no formal rule. What lived there had only lie low of the Triumvirate and shy of murder they were free to commit what every crimes they saw fit. Anyone who came to the mountains with out using magic to transport directly to the Great Hall was undoubtedly an enemy and so let whatever fate might befall them come to pass. It could be reasoned that it was Jareth himself who was out of place, invading their home. For what lived in the mountains could not lawfully venture into any of the kingdoms in the realm.

"You dare to laugh at a king!"

"Some king you are. I know you ain't got your powers."

"Whatever it is that whomever has told you, you have been grossly misinformed," he sounded convincing when he spoke.

"No sense lying to me. I get my information from your Representative. Do you mean to tell me that one of your hand chosen would be misinformed about the goings on in your kingdom? I might be a lowly troll, yer majesty, but I know what side the bread is buttered on." He immediately returned to the sack.

"Tiberon. It must have been Tiberon." Sarah said.

Jareth grabbed the troll by his scruff. "And so you know it now, that my powers have been limited, but surely you feel that my strength has not." He tightened his grip on the gruesome creature. "Tis the girl who limits my powers. Should I do anything to you, it would protect her as well. That I'm not permitted to do, but should I set her free," a hand rose high into the night before he laid a thundering palm on his stallion's rump. Bagheera whinnied before he took off. The air carried Sarah's cry to Jareth's ears. "I would have no problem defending myself against you."

The troll trembled now, in the presence of a king whose powers he could sense. "Damn the bastard who told me you had no power left. I curse him yer majesty, curse him with everything that I am. I am but yer humble servant."

Throwing him aside, Jareth spat down at him, "Take what you have managed to transfer from my pack to yours and consider yourself fortunate that I left you with your life." Mounting Chataigne, the king circled back and hovered above the quaking troll, "And be sure that whomever else has been misinformed by Tiberon is told of what has happened this night. We are to reach the Triumvirate without any further interruption. Am I understood?"

"Yes, most definitely yer majesty."

"Yah," he cried turning Chataigne back onto the path and driving him to a gallop so that he could catch up with Sarah.

Bagheera was a fast horse with great endurance. It was no easy feat to catch him when he had been startled into running off. It took Jareth the better part of an hour, but he finally managed to see the white of Sarah's sweater seemingly floating about two yards ahead. "Bagheera halt!" he cried as he neared her. Obeying its master's commands, the stallion's paces slowed until he was walking, eventually stopping altogether. When she faced him, her eyes were filled with tears, her cheeks streaked and wind burnt.

As tenderly as he could ask, Jareth begged of her, "Why do you cry?"

"You have to be kidding me! You bring me through paradise to these mountains that look so beautiful and smell so clean and in no time we're attacked by trolls."

"I would hardly call that an attack Sarah. He just meant to steal a few things. Thanks to Tiberon, he felt confident enough to try and get away with that. Remind me that I must speak with him when I get back." He said it all so casually.

"I won't be reminding you anything when you get back, Jareth. I'm going home, remember? That's why you've brought me here in the first place."

"You never seem to fail to remind me." He said it softly, loud enough that she would hear, but not so loud as to threaten her. "Come, ride at my side. I've taken care of the troll. We won't have any more trouble on this journey." The horses traveled side by side on the path to the cave of the Triumvirate. They gaited into the Great Hall at precisely seven o'clock. The Triumvirate sat in their thrones as they would have any other time Jareth came to the them. The Cleric to the king's left, the Sage to his right and in the middle sat the Gavel.

"You bring us the Legend Goblin King," the Gavel pointed out.

"I bring to all of you Sarah Williams," he replied coolly.

"You surprise me Jareth," the Sage said. "Not even a bow to greet your superiors."

He dismounted at their command and helped Sarah do the same. They bowed before the Triumvirate. Sarah let the king do the talking, "Members of the Triumvirate, please allow me to present the mortal of which I spoke, Sarah Williams."

The Gavel came forward first, he took her hand, "Rise Sarah Williams. You may call me Gavel. I welcome you to the Great Hall." With a quick kiss to the back of her hand he returned to his throne.

"Greetings Sarah Williams," the Sage added cheerfully as he drew nearer her. "You may call me the Sage. I thank you for agreeing to meet with us." Had she agreed? She didn't recall this trip being optional.

The Cleric was the last to greet her. In the way he moved and the tone of his voice, she could tell immediately why this was the one Jareth suggested she speak to. Her lips tried to resist curling in the corners, but he was beaming as he moved to greet her. When he took her hands into his she lost the battle not to smile back at him. "Sarah, it is long since time that we met. You are every bit the fairytale I've heard you to be." The Cleric leaned in and kissed her cheek.

"Thank you," she told him before he turned to take his throne.

"Enough of these formalities, or informalities," the Gavel said clearing his throat and glancing at the Cleric from the corner of his eye. "Tell us why you come before us tonight Goblin King."

Jareth rose, "You know why it is that I'm here."

"Yes, but tell me anyway. I do so love the sound of your voice."

"Not half as much as your own." The Cleric shot the king a chastising glance while the Gavel scowled at him. "This mortal has landed herself in the Underground. She has no child to trade for her freedom and as is the law now, I have no powers to return her home. I come before you tonight to ask you to deal with this mortal."

Even though she knew they had to be formal here, before the Triumvirate, Sarah hadn't expected Jareth to speak that way, as if she was some boil that he needed removed.

"And you Miss Williams, why is it that you come before us tonight?" the Gavel asked.

Looking to the Goblin King, she paused before answering, but he denied her stare. "I want to go home."

"Is that your heart's true desire?" the Sage asked.

'NO!' she wanted to scream. Her heart longed to give dissertations about her true heart's desire, but she hung here head, defeated and muttered, "It is."

"Perhaps I can change your mind then," the Cleric spoke up, capturing the attention of all those in attendance. "Brothers I beseech you, this mortal has rejuvenated the kingdom of the Underground. Tis a far better sight than it has been in a number of years."

"You speak truth Cleric," the Gavel admitted, "but how easily you forget that the Underground would not have met such ruin if the mortal had not come in the first place."

"I never asked to come here in the first place." Sarah broke the silence by standing up for herself as she could see Jareth wasn't about to do it.

"Hush, mortal," the Gavel ordered. "You will speak when spoken to."

"The Cleric is right, the king has seen fit to give the girl his magic, with it returned, the kingdom will heal," the Sage attempted to draw a little of their attention back from her disrespect.

Not to be outdone, the Gavel said, "And when we send her home, we'll take back that magic which the Goblin King seems to so easily distribute to pretty mortals with piercing green eyes who capture his fancy in passing."

"Gavel, speak what you must for the sake of ceremony, but I won't have you talk of me as though I were some sort of fool. In over 170 years I have given away my magic to only one being and you make it sound as though I've sprinkled pixie dust on every green eyed mortal whose been and gone from here."

"Now, now, since when is the Goblin King so concerned with the track record of his virtues?" the Gavel asked rhetorically. "You must admit the two of you have an odd enough relationship."

"What know you of our relationship?"

"Careful king. You know well enough to know that we would not allow you to journey so far unsupervised with no magic of your own." Sarah hoped that night had hidden her from more than just Jareth's eyes as the Gavel spoke.

"I think perhaps our more lenient brother is right. Besides I should very much like to see what comes of these two. Let the mortal stay," the Sage offered.

"Let her stay?" the Gavel raged.

"For the Labyrinth, brother," the Cleric reasoned.

"For the fun of it," the Sage reiterated.

Jareth was amazed there was even talk of allowing her to stay. This was unheard of in his kingdom, mortals did not get invited to stay, but Sarah Williams was no ordinary mortal.

"Step forward mortal," the Gavel commanded. Hesitantly she obeyed. "How did you arrive here?"

"I wished myself here, using a..." she looked at Jareth, whose head hung in anticipation of her next word, "crystal."

"Where would a mortal, such as yourself get a crystal from?"

"I found it." Lying wasn't the same as choosing selective bits of information was it? Isn't that the first lesson the Underground had taught her? Choose your words careful so that you get the response you desire.

"Found it?" the Gavel asked. "Would you have me believe that in your world crystals grew openly in nature where any imbecile could just ... pluck one?"

"I found it in the pocket of a coat the king had worn," she said indignantly.

Laughter rang in the Gavel's throat, "Oh Jareth, say it isn't true. Tell me you haven't grown lazy on the whole. Tell me it's just this one mortal whose made you go all sloppy." The Goblin King hung his head. He did not answer. He did not meet their curious stares.

"Do you see?" The Sage joined in his laughter as he addressed the Gavel, "Is this not more fun than you've had of late?"

"Go on mortal, you found the king's crystal..."

Sarah's heart hurt for him. Her powerful and glorious king, the one that she had been so fearful of, so intimidated by and they had him there with his head hung, broken, beaten. "And I wished myself here."

"You make it seem so easy. In fact, it is rather difficult by design for mortals to arrive in the Underground, but you, you are no ordinary mortal are you?" She didn't speak. "Are you?" the Gavel repeated more fiercely.

"I am what you believe me to be. Nothing more, nothing less."

"Jareth, you've sharpened her tongue I see." The king tried his best to hide a smirk that had come to his lips.

"Despite what your king may choose to tell you, I am a very perceptive fey, Sarah. While I might not know why, I am well aware of the difference between you and the other pathetic creatures of your kind. In time you will slip up and reveal yourself to me, of this, I am confident." He narrowed his eyes as he rose from his throne, "Hear what I say now, as it is the ruling of the Triumvirate. In the matter of the mortal, Sarah Williams, it is decided that the creature will," he looked at the faces of the others in the Great Hall before he continued, "stay in the Underground for a matter of six weeks time. During her stay she will remain a guest of the king and be given sufficient quarters in his dwelling. She will be solely his responsibility. We require that the mortal visit each of the sectors of the Underground, as well as the Goblin City, so that her presence may continue to heal the lands she ruined fifteen years ago. At the end of the six week period, we shall reconvene in order to determine what next be done with the mortal. All agreed?"

"Aye," the Sage piped up.

"Aye," the Cleric agreed.

"She can't stay at the castle. You've made the rule before only a spouse or minor children are to share residence with my servants and me."

"But surely king, you would not want her to fend for herself? Besides, it is your fault that she's arrived. I would think you would want her where you could keep an eye on her." He thought he saw the Gavel smile when he said it. "And you Miss Williams, is there anything we can do for you to make your stay more comfortable?"

"As a matter of fact there is." Jareth's mouth hung open as he waited to hear what would come next. "Give the king back his magic."

"But Sarah, the magic Jareth has given you is the very reason the Gavel has allowed you to stay." It was the Cleric who attempted to reason with her first.

"It needn't be. I have my own magic, mortal magic, which I believe can also be useful in repairing the Underground. If I am to be here six more weeks, I want to know that should I come across another troll or a mischievous goblin or a Representative with a chip on his shoulder..." At this she captured the attention of the Sage, who cocked his head and raised a brow as she continued, "the king will be able to protect me." Hadn't she tested the Gavel enough for one day? Enough for a mortal lifetime?

The king knitted his brow. Was she really asking them to return his magic? After banishing him back here when he tried to request it himself, he wondered what her motivation was. Wasn't it bad enough they had been convinced to let her stay? The Cleric smiled, proud of the display Sarah had made. The Gavel had opened himself up for it, asking her if there was anything they could do, and after he had the nerve to call Jareth a fool. It wasn't anything he wasn't saying in his own head as the other four sets of eyes in the room focused on him. "Magic of your own you say."

"I do. It seems that I had magic of my own all along, it just didn't manifest until Jareth ki..." there were wiser words she sought out quickly, "...kindly lent me his powers. I wish to return them." She stood straighter, looked at Jareth with all her compassion. This was what he wanted. She could give him this. "Furthermore, you have merely delayed my leaving. If Jareth's powers remain with Jareth you won't need to concern yourself with the Underground being ruined when I am no longer here."

Even if the Gavel had denied her request she had wished it so. Best he grant the request so that he could at least seem to have some control over the situation. "Well it seems we would have been wiser to roll out a yellow bricked road rather than this musty red carpet," he said with nervous laughter. "Your intentions are admirable, for a mortal. I would be less than compassionate if I were to ignore your plea. I mean gracious gift."

"You heard her Gavel, return my magic to me." Jareth was like a child who had just been told he could be excused from the dinner table to play with a toy that had been confiscated and locked away. It was thrilling to be given the permission, but without the tangible reward, true satisfaction was unattainable.

"Patience king. Your magic has already been returned."

"But I don't feel any different?" Jareth moved his hand in an effort to generate a crystal. There was no result. "Forgive me, but as you can see, I haven't my magic at all."

"Your magic awaits, trapped inside a bottle of champagne, back in your castle. When you drink of it, your magic will be restored."

"Always a catch Gavel," Jareth sighed.

"Always a lesson king. Perhaps another three days remembering how it is to be without magic will remind you that it should not so easily be given away."

He wanted to object. His magic had never been given away easily, but he dare not anger the Gavel any further, nor dare he reveal himself to Sarah. "You would have us camp in the mountains tonight, with no magic to defend against the marauders who robbed us on our way here."

The Gavel spoke, "Nonsense. You will remain our guests. A room has been prepared for each of you to stay in, separately of course. Arrangements for replacing your stolen supplies have been made. You'll notice your horses have been taken to be groomed and watered." When they turned, it was true, the horses were gone. "Now then, Jareth, Sarah, please allow our servants to show you to your rooms. I do so hope you will find your stay here to be a pleasant one."

After Jareth and Sarah had been escorted out, the Gavel left, without so much as a glance toward his constituents, storming from the Great Hall. "It surprises me you wish the girl to stay," the Cleric said to the remaining member of the trio.

"In all your centuries Cleric, I would think there would be very little left which might surprise you."

"Waxing poetic to avoid the subject are we?"

At the insinuation, the Sage departed from the Great Hall without further comment, to seek refuse in his chamber. When he reached his door he was careful to look about before he entered. Once inside, he was promptly descended upon by Tiberon, "Well uncle?"

"You are not to be here," the Sage told him.

"Is my mortal banished or does she remain?"

"Tiberon, please, hush yourself."

"I shall ask again and again, louder each time if necessary."

The Sage locked his door and, with a jerk of his arm, closed the draperies. "If only I could close your lips as easily," he remarked to Tiberon before being seated in a rocking chair, whose creaking sleigh bottom was separated from the stone floor by a braided rug. He indicated to Tiberon he too should sit. The Representative took a seat in a chair that faced the Sage and parted his lips to speak once more. Before sound could escape him, the Sage interrupted, "I don't know what you think you're doing stirring up trouble that's been settled for so long."

"Is my mortal banished or does she remain?"

"Have you given a single moment's consideration to your mother in all of this? Or the fey who believes he has been your father for all these years?"

"Is my mortal banished or does she remain?"

"I thought not. Much like your father, you lack the capacity to think of anyone but yourself." Tiberon smiled as if it were some compliment he'd been given and the Sage could see Darien in his wicked grin. Oh, that he had been able to stop his sister's great, great grandchild, his great niece from falling victim to the fey's wicked charm and handsome good looks.

"I will ask you once more, then I will seek out the Gavel," Tiberon threatened.

"The mortal remains," the Sage admitted sharply.

"Thank you uncle," Tiberon said in forced gratitude. "Jareth might have stolen my throne, but what will he do when I steal his queen."

For centuries, the Sage had known Darien, known of his promiscuous ways. When at last he had used his royal influence to win the affection of Liril, great niece to the Sage, he was not surprised. However, when Liril came to him some months later to announce she was with child. The Sage was shocked. It went against his better judgment, but he told her to tell Darien about the child. As he suspected, the then king denied any knowledge of the child or the woman who carried the child. Liril returned to her village and to the sympathy of Gumlain.

Gumlain was what the Underground referred to as a 'badly mixed breed'. Somewhere along the way, the bloodline mixed with a lesser and lesser species until the genetics produced odd creatures. Goblins which had fairy wings or dwarves no meatier than wood sprites, but in Gumlain's case, he had the body of an elf and the brain of a goblin. To the great sadness of the Sage, Liril seduced Gumlain and he accepted that the child who grew within the fair haired fey was his own. Darien's child would have a father. In time, Liril grew to return affection for Gumlain who had always and still loved her. As Tiberon grew older, Liril realized what a respectable thing Gumlain had done, even if he had done so unwittingly and eventually she wanted Gumlain to be a true father. Ironically, Gumlain's condition prevented them from conceiving more children and the mixed breed devoted himself even more to the son he thought was his.

Chaos visited he kingdom not long after when Darien was being forced by Arianna to give his throne to his child, Leanan Sidhe. Darien came looking for the son he'd denied. Liril was at last able to turn his own words against him. When staunchly she denied ever having been with the king and proclaimed proudly that her son belonged to her husband. Darien approached the Sage, asking him to talk sense into the girl, trying to appeal to him that the boy had a certain birthright. The Sage wisely advised him that amid all the controversy Darien had already brought to the realm, he would be foolish to pursue such matters. The matter was put to rest. None but the Sage, Darien and Liril would know the truth and she would deny it to the death.

Darien slunk back to the Underground and before crowning his daughter queen, he secured Tiberon a position as Representative. Liril and Gumlain took to raising Tiberon and tried their best to teach him well. It didn't take Tiberon long to figure things out for himself after Darien's visit. Were he Gumlain's son he would have been even more badly bred than the sorrowful fey. Not to mention that he had noticed his 'parents' never conceived him any siblings. Despite the efforts of Tiberon's parents, his heart remained his father's heart, one that held steadfast to hatred, but it was not his heart that made him dangerous. It was the fact that such a heart could hide behind his mother's exquisite face and his father's cunning charm. By the time Ian had passed away, Jareth was already being prepared to take the throne. Tiberon grew jealous. The throne was to be his and instead he was relegated to the lands outside the castle, forced to protect the very heir that slighted him, but he waited. When the Leanan Sidhe had gone, the Underground was in havoc with her spirit, and while he relished watching Jareth try to control the situation, he waited. Then when the mortal came to battle Jareth for the child Tiberon saw that for the first time in as long as he had watched the king, and he had watched closely, finally, Jareth loved something. Tiberon had Darien's ideals of women. Were he king he would have loved the throne above all else, but Jareth had his father's heart and while he sat in the throne he could have as easily given it away. He wanted a woman to love. Just as his mother's soul reached beyond the realm, so had his, and at a time when mortals were not well thought of.

Suddenly Tiberon no longer cared to steal the throne, he wanted to devastate the fey who held it, and when he could no longer function enough to be king, Tiberon would take that from him too. Tiberon would make Jareth the Representative to the Southeast sector where he could watch on as his Sarah and Tiberon, who by then would be known to be Darien's first born son and Jareth's uncle, the true heir to the throne, ran what was once Jareth's kingdom and filled it with children the Goblin King would never have. It had taken some time, but at last Tiberon's plan was beginning to come together. Sarah was back in the Underground, Jareth was without his power and the Sage was at his mercy.

"Should you succeed at this overthrow you're planning, we will be even. You will not call upon me again, wielding your paternity like a sword."

"Uncle, you underestimate me. When," he stressed this with certainty, "I succeed, I will shout from this very mountain top that I am king Darien's first born son and rightful heir to the throne, and I will credit you as you deserve."

"You would fancy the Underground bow down to the bastard son of a whore?"

Tiberon approached him by just one step before he reminded himself of the consequences which would come from a confrontation with a member of the Triumvirate. "My father was a great king, a wronged fey with a frigid bride. Perhaps you place the blame in the wrong person uncle. Perhaps it is your niece who whored herself about, tempting my defenseless father."

"Your father is no more defenseless than you are innocent. As for my niece, she was young and smitten, while not naive, never doubt that she was fooled. I regret that I have come to your aid Tiberon. Since you were small I've hoped that my support of you, my attempts to care might have swayed you to a life of appreciation if not some satisfaction. Instead I find that I only cultivated a deviant mind and a cold heart. I blame myself in part for facilitating your smaller schemes and finding myself here now. I fear that I have taken part in another great cover up here in our realm. What kind of king will you be when you overlook a man who has devoted himself to you so you can claim a father who began your life by denying you? What royal fey would break his mother's heart?" The Representative's face remained unflinching. "You will, you know, break that poor woman's heart. In a solitary moment of pure selfishness and vengeance, you will single-handedly destroy over 250 years of marriage."

"A marriage built on lies," Tiberon spat.

Pointedly, the Sage met his interjection. "A marriage which has grown into real love, unparalleled commitment and peaceful contentment, the likes of which I doubt you will ever know."

"Don't worry uncle, when I claim Jareth's mortal, I will know pleasures that will rival any this whole realm has ever heard of."

"Are you so certain of that nephew? Have you thought on what would happen if the mortal were to deny you the same way she has the king?"

"She won't."

"Sarah Williams is no ordinary mortal and you are wrong to underestimate her. She is very much connected to the king. I leave it to the Cleric to call what they share love, I myself am no romantic, but even I find myself forced to admit that I see something between them."

Tiberon stood and stared hatefully down at the elder fey. "At most she pities him. After all, she has denied him twice and he continues to pine for her." He began to strut around the room. He wore as much arrogance as did the king, but on Tiberon it was sour and unjustified. "When he is no longer king, she will have no use for him and she can let her pity fade away."

"Never think that pity cannot be strong enough an emotion to make us go against our better judgments, nephew." The word was bitter on the Sage's tongue. "I, better than any, know this first hand," he told him as he stood. "Now go, return to your woodland."

"I've not finished with all I've come to ask you. You were to see that she would be made to visit my sector."

"The Gavel has done that for you without my provocation."

"And she will come alone?"

"Be glad that she will come at all!"

"She must come alone," Tiberon demanded.

A great gust blew over the Representative, blowing back the Sage's hair as his hands rose and his voice deepened. "Go! Go before I begin to regret coming to your aid more than I already do. Go, before my senses return to me and I confess my treachery!" That being said, the Sage sent Tiberon back to the Southeast himself before he could argue another word about it. Then, he fell back into his chair, a hand, older than it had seemed just an hour ago, wiped over his face.

"Forgive me, he said out loud to no one.

When they were taken to their rooms, they found the accommodations to be more than adequate. The bedding was lavish and trays sat by the bedside overflowing with food. "Should you require anything, please pull this cord," the elves told them as they left them to their chambers. Sarah's bed was draped with lavish silks that hung over the top of the frame, draping down like an old fashioned bed curtain. When she drew open the panels, the bedding was plush, thick as she pressed down upon it with her open palm. Laid on the foot of the bed was a beautiful gown made of three layers of sheer material, the bodice and hem trimmed in embroidery, the straps were thick satin ribbons. For wearing over the gown, an extravagant robe with billowy sleeves and a hem that cascaded on the floor.

Jareth's bed was dressed in thin cotton, four posters rising out from the bed frame, nothing above him shy the ceiling. He found a night shirt and cap on the foot of the bed which were to be his night clothes and he grumbled at the poor taste he was sure had been the Gavel's doing.

Both weary traveler's set about consuming their fill. They ate fruit and cheeses, a wonderfully fragrant herbed chicken and seasoned potatoes. The greens still crunchy, steamed to perfection. Each tray was accompanied with a jug of wine which they readily partook of. Sarah wondered if the people here every drank anything that wasn't alcohol. When stomachs had been filled, they ran a bath. Sarah sunk deep into the luxurious tub, candles aglow all about her. Jareth however found that the basin which had been left for him was so short, he could have used his knees to scrub behind his ears. Nevertheless, they were clean and refreshed. Each settled into their night clothes and lie upon their beds, thoughts of the other fresh on their minds.

Sarah was staying. His mortal would remain by his side, in his home for six more weeks. Brazenly he allowed his mind to wonder if they would find themselves entwined again. Wantonly, he dreamed that someday it would be in love and just not in the pursuit of pleasure. Soiling his reverie, he thought about where he was, who was controlling things and doubted the Gavel's intentions could be for the good. Jareth and the Gavel would never befriend one another. The Gavel was too quick to pass judgment on the king and the king too stubborn to convince the Gavel he was anything more than the boy who inherited the throne.

Sarah couldn't help imagining the king entering her room, parting the silk panels of her bed curtain and looming over her. How she longed for the feel of him next to her as they had been that night at the base of the mountain. With Christian she had neither love nor satisfaction, she had begun to doubt that any man could give her both. Jareth had loved her once when she was too young to understand the pleasure of sex and now that she had matured, his heart was stone to her. 'Doesn't matter,' she told herself. Sex with the Goblin King, even without love, was still more satisfying than what she had known with Christian. It enticed her, making him all she could think about, making the beautiful room around her feel like a cell.

The knock on her chamber's door made her pulse quicken. "Come in," she squeaked out timidly, fixing her robe around her so that it opened enough to reveal a bit of her leg and chewing at the inside of her lips so that they appeared fuller and more colorful.

"Miss Williams?" it was the Gavel.

Sarah straightened herself quickly, covering her exposed leg and sitting upright on the bed. "Your, your…I'm sorry, how should I address you?"

"You may call me Gavel. We needn't be too formal," he insisted eyeing her a little. "Do forgive my intrusion and at this late hour, but I wanted to be absolutely certain that you were comfortable with going back to the castle with Jareth. I wouldn't want you to feel forced into anything. A beautiful girl, such as you are, shouldn't be taken advantage of."

"If I didn't feel safe with him I wouldn't have come back, wouldn't have asked you to return his magic. Jareth may take advantage of some people, but not me. He's never taken advantage of me." Her tone grew more defiant as she spoke.

Sensing she had been insulted, the Gavel attempted to persuade her. "I have known the Goblin King far longer than you milady, and I assure you, taking advantage of any woman is not above him in the slightest. In fact, it might surprise you what your king is capable of."

"As it so might surprise you Gavel, if you were to allow it."

'And so the legend lives up to her reputation,' thought the Gavel as he stood before her with no response to her rapier retort. It had been said that the girl was mighty with her words where strength of body may have failed her and he had set himself up to experience that truth first hand. "I see," he finally said, "then I shall leave you to rest for the night."

Moments after he had gone, Sarah thought about what the Gavel had told her. She wondered how many woman he had taken advantage of. The woman whose aura was still so present in his bed, was she one of hundreds? Thousands? After all, Jareth was immortal, depending on how long he had been alive it would have been possible. When the second knock came on her door, it disturbed her. She was already sitting on the edge of her bed, her legs dangling over the edge, robe pulled tight around her, "Come in," she snapped.

Compassionate eyes soothed her fears as the Cleric approached. He bowed to her slightly. "Sarah, if I may have your company for just a few moments."

"You may," he was charming, soft in a way that made him seem paternal and yet, you knew he held within him a great power.

Gently he took her by the hand and led her to a settee on the opposite wall. "I must say you are every bit as beautiful as I've heard rumored you were."

"Thank you," she blushed.

"I trust you are undoubtedly as wise as you are lovely. You handled yourself quite well with my colleagues."

"You seem so very different from them. I find it hard to believe you are all brothers."

He chuckled at her, "We are brothers for the cause and not brothers by blood. Our realm has not always been as you see it now Sarah. You brought great devastation to the Underground. That is true, but physical damage is easily repairable. The kingdoms of this realm had once been plagued by great injustice and the Gavel especially has grown cynical, suspicious. The Sage is easily swayed so long as the argument present to him is sensible and feasible, which is why he so often concedes to the opinion of the Gavel. All that said, concerning yourself with their hostilities is a gross misuse of your time my dear."

"Injustice? Involving Jareth?"

"Yes and no. You'll find that many questions here can be answered that way."

"If you can call that an answer."

He laughed again. "Be that as it may, I do so hope that the Gavel hasn't put any unnecessary pressures on you. I was on my way to speak to the king and saw him coming from your chamber."

She shook her head, "I don't think he likes me very much and I get the feeling that he wants to make me wary of Jareth."

"And how is it you feel about Jareth?"

"I don't feel like I need to be protected from him if that's what you mean?"

"Not at all. The king and I are old friends, Sarah, I know that he is capable of great things when he's not fighting himself or someone else. When he takes time to let his heart and mind align. The king is fey and you must remember when dealing with fey, things with them aren't always as they first appear. What he does, the things he says they sometimes have a deeper underlying meaning. With Jareth it's doubly hard. He is not one to show his heart or to discuss his pain. He has wounds that are old and deep. Be patient with him."

"Everyone has wounds," she justified.

"True. But fey feel things more deeply than any other being, Sarah, even pain. I have a feeling your presence here will help him as it has helped the kingdom. When his magic is returned you'll see. I'm sure he'll have a great gratitude for your kindness," she looked at the man confused. "Why I've only known you a few short hours but already feel as though I could tell you my entire life story, but I'm afraid I haven't the time for that." He smiled at her, a tender smile that continued to speak although his words had ended. "Speaking of time, I have taken up enough of yours."

"No really, you don't have to rush off."

"You are a sweet child. There is time. We will talk again, I'm sure of it. Now, to bed with you," his gentle hands guided her in the direction of her bed as though she were an adolescent child fighting sleep. "Mortals equate sleep with beauty in some odd way, or so I am told. If that is true, my dear, than it surprises me to find you awake at all." A final smile flashed at her before he quietly closed the door behind him.

Sarah reasoned that he must have been talking about the adage, 'beauty sleep' or perhaps the fairytale, 'Sleeping Beauty'. Either way, she was sure he had meant it as no offense. Something about the Cleric brought her peace and calm. She climbed into bed, her mind quieted by the easy melody of his voice and drifted to dream.

Jareth startled when the Cleric knocked. "Who is it?" he yelled.

The Cleric entered, "Is that anyway to talk to an old friend?"

"Cleric," he called, "I'm sorry. It's only that being here has put me on edge."

"Is that all that's put you on edge Jareth?"

"Look at me Cleric, I look like a rejected applicant for Sandman," he said, extending his arms after first crushing his blonde mane with the night cap he had been provided. His ivory knees showed from beneath the hem of his gown and were he to be honest, the Cleric would have admitted it was a sight to behold, but he suppressed the laughter which tickled the corners of his mouth. "Laugh you old fool, laugh before you explode."

With Jareth's blessings he did laugh, long and hard. "I do so apologize for the way they treat you king, but surely you haven't lost your sense of humor in times such as these."

"I have lost it along with everything else." With the confession made he flopped onto the settee crossing his legs and tucking the gown between them.

"I know," the Cleric admitted. "I could see it when we removed your magic from the mortal, a part of you remained behind, a piece of your soul which can never be given back Jareth. But if you were to ask me…"

"Which, to be clear, I have not," he interrupted.

"But if you were I would tell you that to love someone enough that you bestow your soul upon them is not to have lost, but to have gained."

"Save your wisdom. The girl doesn't return my affections."

"But surely she must have some feeling for you, something that can grow to love."

"I don't know Cleric. You tell me. Can lust grow to love?" The Cleric looked at him quizzically. Jareth spoke once more in an attempt to explain, "Suffice it to say friend, we've admitted to, shall we say, an attraction to one another."

"Jareth, what are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking that I please her, even if she doesn't love me, even if I can't allow myself to love her, I please her and that pleases me. Perhaps the first thing in quite awhile that I can say does."

"My son, yours is a heart with more scars than most, you should be more careful that it doesn't break."

"It is not in my control to break my heart, just as it is not within my control to mend it."

The Cleric lay his hand on the king's chest, "I wish you peace king. I wish you all good things." With that he left.

Jareth had just settled into his bed eager to rest his body if not his eyes. When the second knocking came he huffed, "What is it?"

The Gavel entered, "You should rise when you receive a visitor Goblin King."

Was there no mercy left in his world? "Gavel, it is late and I am weary, what can I do for you at this hour?"

"I come to warn you that mating with the mortal while she's in this kingdom would be most unwise."

The king was furious, "And this is your news to tell me why?"

"I have not been ignorant to just how beautiful the mortal is Jareth. Praise the Supreme One that I am a fey of great strength, but you," his tone insinuated that Jareth was far less, "I fear would have a more difficult time. Were the mortal to conceive, well I hate to dredge up the painful memory of your family life, but you of all our kind should realize what it would mean to the Underground."

"I know precisely what amount of decorum should be maintained Gavel, which is far more than I can say for you. I am here for one night with my mortal, in that time I suggest you stay as far away from the two of us as possible." The Gavel sneered at him before leaving.

Just before morning threatened to break the silence of night's shroud, the Goblin King grew restless. His night had been filled with dreams of his mortal, her graceful movement, her passionate kiss, her confessions of desire, her submission to love. Stealthily he stole into her room. The sight of her lying still beneath the silk coverings moved him. It was as if she had been delivered to him as a gift, there for the unwrapping, something so beautiful it seemed a shame to open, so precious it would be a sin to waste. He peeled back the rich fabric and gazed upon her sleeping face. "You haunt my dreams the way you haunt my days, Sarah." He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead and left before he grew carried away with her.

In her sleep, Sarah called for the king, "Jareth," just moments after he closed the door.


	19. Chapter 19

**CHAPTER NINETEEN - NO HOLDS BARD**

In the Great Hall, they met once more, Jareth, Sarah and the Triumvirate. "I trust you've been provided a morning meal?" The king and the mortal nodded their heads to indicate they had. "Very good. Your horses have been readied and we took the liberty of replenishing your supplies for the trip home. Is there anything else we can do for you before you go?" The Gavel spoke as if he were the most benevolent fey in the realm when all those in attendance, including him, knew that it pleased him to feel as if the king owed him something.

"Just one small thing Gavel," Sarah said stepping forward. "How is it that you expect me to ride horseback in this?" Her arms opened wide, the huge bell sleeves of her medieval gown drooping to her waist which was cinched tight by a gold rope. The skirt narrowed and pooled around her feet obscuring whatever shoes she had been given. Her hair was plaited back. The gown was lovely and fit her well, highlighting her curves and swelling breasts, but in no way was it meant for riding.

"Why side saddle of course." The Gavel spoke as if it were simple math or remedial reading, something she should have practically been born knowing how to do.

"She only learned to ride at all three days ago, for pity's sake Gavel, provide her with something more suitable." Jareth knew this was another of his games. He suspected that Sarah had done or said something to upset this particular member of the trio or that the Gavel had such disdain for Jareth himself, that he would choose to attack someone he was fond of.

"But that is appropriate, just what a woman of this realm should wear."

A tingling filled Sarah's fingertips as she grew more infuriated by the fey who smiled at her innocently while double talking them both. Her hands settled on her hips, her mind repeating, 'I wish I had a pair of riding pants. I wish I had a pair of riding pants.' Slowly she smoothed her hands from just above the golden tie all the way to her ankles. When she stood upright, her lower half was clad in a taupe pair of riding pants and black leather boots. "I am no ordinary woman," she told them, continuing to adjust her wardrobe by sliding her hands over the incredible long sleeves and shortening them to a more reasonable length. Though they had taken Jareth's magic from her, she retained a piece of his soul that, so it seemed, was a piece large enough to continue to keep her mortal magic thriving.

In his throne, to the Gavel's right, the Cleric did his best to suppress a laugh, but when the pressure of his amusements grew to large, he let it free. "Seems as if she's one-upped you old man."

"Indeed." The Gavel's focus switched back to the mortal, "Tis true, Sarah Williams, you are no ordinary woman, nor I suppose are you of this realm." He bit his tongue to keep from going on to say she never would be. He would see to that because of her insolence. Jareth loved her and it disgusted him, especially after the others convinced him to allow her to stay, but he would not be so easily swayed when she stood before him again in six weeks. "Thank you for reminding me," he said instead. Sarah's skin rose in bumps when he spoke.

"Off with the two of you, then. Long way to go and I want you clear of these mountains by sun down. They'll be no replacing anything that is stolen this time." The Cleric rose from his chair and hurried toward them. Whispering in the king's ear he told him, "Mount Bagheera and ride before he's angered any further. When you are gone I will set to calming him down a bit. Go now." The Cleric was a man of immense stature. When he greeted the mortal he took her by her shoulders and winked. Softly he told her, "Yours is a true magic that is both powerful and comical, very much like its keeper I suspect. The pleasure in meeting you has been all mine." A gentle bow and soft kiss to the back of her hand followed before he lifted her easily onto her horse and helped her steady herself until she could get situated. "Goodbye my friends. We wish you well."

Nearly in unison the duo turned their horses and kicked them into a start. Behind them two fey waved while a third sat in his throne, the forefingers of his hands in a sharp point which stabbed into his chin, a sneer disfiguring his lips.

Jareth and Sarah rode in silence to the base of the mountain which took the better part of their day. Both of them had eaten more at breakfast than they had in some time and without hunger as an obstacle they were able to leave the mountains well before sunset. When they reached the open fields of the Northwestern sector, they turned the horses to the water. The stream which created this sector's waterfall came from the mountain a bit further north than where they had camped on their way to the Triumvirate. They would follow the water home as they were no longer on a schedule and traveling beside the water was always safest. It wasn't until they reached the stream that Jareth finally broke the silence that had settled between them. "You shouldn't have done that?"

"Done what? I haven't done anything in hours," Sarah said surprised.

"You shouldn't have spoken to a member of the Triumvirate the way you did and then showed off your magic. He was being generous providing you with that gown."

"He was being snide." Was this the same king she'd faced the Triumvirate with the night before?

"You know so little of this world Sarah, I'm sure you misinterpreted his intentions."

"I interpreted his intentions quite well. Insisting what a woman should be, well maybe here they all still flit around in long skirts with their breasts tucked up under their noses, but where I come from a woman can wear pants Jareth, and she can wear them just as well as a man."

Chataigne had wandered to the water's edge for a drink. The king and Bagheera remained behind them. "You certainly can," he said absentmindedly as he looked at her shapeliness filling the breeches she wore. In an effort to quickly cover his blurt he continued, "In your world, but you are no longer in your world and if you are to remain here for six additional weeks, I think you should make an effort to blend in."

For a time she did not reply. Her horse had finished drinking and they had gone on a good way before she said calmly, "It's not that I didn't appreciate the dress. It was a lovely though unnecessary gesture, but very impractical. Honestly, could you see me riding this horse with those extra acres of material blowing behind me? The first low tree I pass and I could have been hanging from it!"

This made the Goblin King smile. In fact he had pictured her riding horseback in the dress, only she was sat side saddle, his protective arms around her. "Point well taken." There was a great pause before he added, "But you still should not have angered the Gavel. You must stand before him again."

"So?"

"So, the next time you go before him Sarah, the Labyrinth, the Underground will be repaired and he will have no use for you. You saw how opposed he was to your staying, even now, when he knows you have great power. What do you think he'll do when you're are just a foolish little girl with nothing to offer him?"

"I'm neither foolish, nor am I a little girl Jareth."

Indeed, she had become a woman from head to toe and all points in between. "By the standards of the Underground you are."

"Why? Because I'm not a few hundred years old? Because I don't know who to bow down to? Well then what does that make you in comparison to them?" She paused a moment waiting for him to reply, "Young and foolish too!"

He hadn't thought of himself as young in more than a century. There was some truth to her analogy, a truth the king hated to admit to, "I am a king, no ordinary mortal, because I was descended from a bloodline chosen to rule this kingdom and not the entire realm makes me no less experienced than any of them. In fact, quite the contrary. I would daresay I have experiences those fey could never dream of. What is it that you rule over Sarah, please, remind me?"

Not since he had first come to abduct Toby had she heard Jareth speak to her that way. "Nothing I suppose." Jareth gave her a satisfied look even though he knew she had great dominion over him, "But at least I'm not afraid of him, Sarah challenged"

"Who?"

"The Gavel. At least I'm not afraid of him." She stressed I'm in a way that Jareth didn't care for.

"Do you mean to say that you believe I am?" Sarah rose an eyebrow at the king's reaction, but said nothing more. He stopped his horse before the gelding, giving him no choice but to halt. "I fear no one in this realm. No thing. But I know great power and I respect it. 'Tis a lesson you would be wise to learn."

Sarah's expression remained unchanged. Once the king set back on their course and he could no longer see her, the steely gaze fled from her eyes taking the stiffness of her lip with it as it went.

Up ahead there was a large open patch and the stream widened some. "We'll camp here tonight," Jareth commanded.

"Yes your majesty," she replied.

He looked at her torn between laughter and castigation. "Set about preparing a fire for our meal and I will put up the tent."

"Do the women in this realm cook while the men tend to the more physical labors your highness? After all I do so wish to fit in?"

Once was cute, twice was obnoxious. "And this is supposed to prove to me you've reached some sort of increased level of maturity."

As he walked away, she jutted her tongue out at him. 'Spoil sport,' she thought as she gathered wood for the fire.

When dinner had ended, they doused the fire. Sarah yawned and stretched before heading to their tent. Jareth waited until he saw her shadow go flat before he entered. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" she asked when he came inside.

"Going to sleep."

"In here?"

"You would prefer I sleep outside?"

"Yes," before he could turn to leave she changed her mind. "No. It's just that when the Triumvirate saw fit to replace our things, they didn't leave me a night shirt to sleep in."

"Be glad," Jareth mumbled under his breath recalling how disappointed he had been with the one they'd left for him.

"What?"

"Too bad," he lied. From the edge of the blanket he could see her bare shoulder peeking out from under her long black hair. "So you're naked under that then?"

Embarrassed she admitted, "As a matter of fact."

"Right. Well there's a simple remedy to all of this. I will sleep wearing my clothes above the blankets and you may rest safely beneath them without fear of my wanton advances." Jareth tried to hide the truth in what he said by masking it with sarcasm.

Sarah wouldn't have exactly called it fear, maybe anticipation, but she smiled sweetly and thanked the king for his chivalrous gesture. 'Jareth, prone to take advantage of woman, ha,' she thought remembering what the Gavel had told her. She watched him as by the moon's light he removed his boots and undid his vest. The breeches he wore buckled and he quickly undid the devise for more comfort in his sleep and untucked his shirt from the waistband.

Once he was undone and had positioned himself on top of the blankets, he turned his back to the mortal who still watched him, watched the easy rise and fall of his rib cage as he breathed, watched the strands of hair fall off his shoulder as he slid onto his side. "Goodnight Sarah."

"Goodnight Goblin King."

Sometime in the middle of the night Sarah awoke to what sounded like gnashing teeth. For a moment she thought that something had gotten into the tent and was hungrily devouring all their food, but when her ears grew more alert she realized it was Jareth. He was drawn into a tight ball at her side, his teeth chattering together in the cold. Her eyes looked at his form with pity. After all, he had volunteered to sleep above the covers, but this was too much to expect from anyone. Her hand reached to touch his face which was quite cold. Sarah pulled the blankets from underneath him, sending him rolling just a bit. Shuffling her body closer to his, she tossed the weathered brown blanket over him. In minutes his body relaxed, the warmth doing it's part to ease his rigidity. He faced skyward now that she had moved him. The brilliant blue of his eyes obscured by his closed lids. Daring to risk his waking, Sarah took his arm into her hand and rose it above her head. She slipped her naked body against his, the tails of his shirt tickling her hip, the coolness of his leather breeches giving her an unexpected thrill between her thighs as she tossed her leg over his. Settling her head on the bare part of his chest which his shirt exposed, she let out a long sigh and watched as it turned into a soft cloud in the cold air.

When morning caused them to wake, they were both entwined in each others' arms, legs stacked like logs in a cabin wall. It was her scent that hit him first, then the feel of her eyelashes on his chest, as her lids fluttered open. Lastly, the sensation of her open palms on his stomach as she shoved him back. "Oh I knew it, knew you'd weasel your way into bed with me!"

"I did no such thing," he claimed.

"Then how," and before she could finish she remembered what had happened when she heard his teeth clanking in the night.

"I don't know. It must have been in my sleep. I must have…"

"Never mind," she cut him off. Jareth thought he saw her blush, but said nothing. She was sitting up from having been startled and he could see her full breasts, kissed golden by the sun streaming into the tent, the nipples already alert. "Argh!" she screamed when she noticed his stare. "You act as if you've never seen them before." Hurriedly she gathered the blankets around herself. Her eyes grew wide as she curled her lip at him. "Well don't just stand there, get out so I can change."

"You just said I've seen them before."

"Get out!"

"Okay, okay. I'm going." Before he left the tent, Jareth reached down and yanked on the blanket. He could have effortlessly removed her covering, but he just meant to give it a tug. Smirking he walked out. Sarah's heart fluttered even if her face scowled at his little game.

"What's gotten into you this morning?" Sarah asked him when she finally popped out of the tent.

"Nothing. I slept quite well last night. When we arrive home I shall have my magic back. What is there to brood over?"

"Brood over? Is that what you call the tantrum you threw last night?"

"I do not throw tantrums," he reiterated as he poured them some juice. "I was merely trying to warn you that the Triumvirate is not a collection of individuals you would be wise to anger. Besides, you heard them, for the duration of your stay, you will be my responsibility. This means that the things you say and do reflect on me, the more trouble you cause me while you're here, the more trouble they'll give me when you're gone."

"Oh," Sarah grunted, ripping a piece of bread in half, "you just can't wait until I leave, can you? I mean it's all you talk about. When I go home... When the Triumvirate sends me home. ..I wish they would have jus..."

Jareth held up a soft grey leather glove as he cautioned her, "Careful. After all, you are very powerful now." His voice was almost sing song when he said it.

"You mean to tell me that all I've had to do this whole time is wish myself home." Jareth smiled at her broadly, a devilish grin he tried to use to combat the anger knitting her brow. Even anger made her beautiful. Sarah moved into his face, still irate that he had failed to point this out to her. "You held me prisoner..."

"You said yourself you were a guest."

"...drug me through..."

"I believe you called it paradise." Each interjection he made was calm and pleasant. His voice never rose, in fact, he never stopped nibbling at his breakfast.

"...get me attacked by trolls..."

"One troll."

"...make me contend with..."

"You knew your wishes came true. You knew fifteen years ago when you wished Toby to me."

"Yeah, but Hoggle said I needed you or the Triumvirate to send me home. You even said I needed them to send me home."

Finally he met her eyes, realizing how close to him she had placed herself, "Not so. I said they would return my magic before they sent you home."

"So you made me go trough all of this so you could get your magic back?" Jareth didn't answer. "Unbelievable. You're are absolutely unbelievable, do you know that?"

"You know now, don't you? I told you now. My magic is back at the castle waiting for me, tell me Sarah," he pulled her to him with one arm in a swift movement that forced air from her lungs in an audible burst, "why haven't you done it?"

"Done what?" Words with no momentum came from her mouth, suddenly, her whole demeanor changed.

"Wished yourself Aboveground." His head cocked from side to side as the king repeated the rhetorical question. "Now that I have been completely honest with you, now that my magic has been returned, why not wish yourself away?"

Sarah's eyes swung with his head as she tried to follow his lips, too distracted by their graceful movement to pay much attention to what he had said. When his eyebrows rose, she knew she needed to say something, "I...I helped destroy this place and I should stay and clean it up."

The Goblin King let loose the hold he had on her. Her feet fell flat against the ground without his might to pull her on point. "I'm glad we got that straightened out."

Much as she wanted to deny it, his little display had aroused her. She could feel her body reacting the way it always did to his touch. Shaking knees, dry mouth, heart beating fast as a rabbit's, they all betrayed her when she tried to stare him down, vainly combating his natural cool. Six years of studying how best to annunciate, pronounce and project her voice all so that face to face with the king everything she learned abandoned her. "Um huh," she peeped out before returning to her breakfast. Satisfied, Jareth smiled when she wasn't looking.

By the time they'd finished eating, Sarah regained control over her muscles and her voice box. "So if we're going to be living together, let's get a few things straight." Jareth looked up with great interest in her recently developed authority. "First off, I will not be a prisoner. I will be permitted to come and go as I please. I will have my own room, where I will be permitted to sleep without supervision."

"You will not be a prisoner, I agree. You will be given some freedoms; however, due to your unfamiliarity with this realm I would hope you would listen carefully to and heed my advice when it relates to matters of your coming and going. As for your accommodations, when we return, I will happily instruct my servants to ready a room for you. Until it is available for use, you will remain a guest in my room, that is, unless our camping has been such a pleasurable experience that you wish to continue sleeping this way while you are here?"

"Why not just use your magic to make me a room?"

"Construction is a task best not done by magic, Sarah."

Even though she wanted to debate him, it had been by hand that Mason was repairing the Labyrinth rather than some spell Jareth had cast. Maybe he wasn't trying to torment her like usual. "Couldn't I share a room with Arulan?"

"If that is what you wish. I'm sure you'll be terribly comfortable in her elfish bed or on her elfish furniture, wherever she chooses to let you sleep."

Arulan was rather petite, almost a foot shorter than Sarah. Sharing her room, in hindsight, was not the best idea. "Fine. I'll stay in your room...UNTIL...your - must we call them servants?"

"But that's what they are."

"But it's rude, not to mention antiquated. I mean no one has servants anymore."

"My world is not like your world. Here everyone is very aware, very proud of who they are and what their roles are in our society. Take Arulan for example, she is no ordinary servant."

"How so?"

"Take my word for it." Something about this mortal made him open up too easily. Before he had time to realize it, his secrets rose to the surface and prepared to leap from the tip of his tongue. Jareth forced himself to regain his focus. "What are your other demands?"

"Well nothing really." She looked away, unable to say what was on her mind while he looked at her. "Just something stupid," Sarah laughed nervously. "What are we, exactly?"

"What do you mean?"

"You and I, what are we?" Flagging her arms back and forth between them, she attempted to make her question more clear.

"I am a 257 year old fey and you are a 30 year..."

"257?"

"Yes. Why? Is there something wrong?" Jareth rose his eyebrows, his vanity capturing the best of him as he awaited her response.

"You don't look like you're 257."

"Fey don't age like mortals do. Sometime I'll explain it to you."

"Why not now? Why not explain it to me now?"

"I don't feel like it."

There was nothing Sarah could say in response. The Goblin King didn't do things if he didn't feel like it. In 257 years no one had changed that, it wasn't about to change today. "I meant what are we to each other?"

"What a divinely mortal question!" The king laughed out loud as she finally made her way around to the point.

"It's a perfectly normal question, Jareth."

"For a mortal."

"For a woman." Did she really just say that? There wasn't a rock big enough in the Underground for her to crawl under. "I just mean that something happened between us the other night and I just want to be clear on what that means, or doesn't mean for that matter. If we're going to, because we have to..."

"Does being with me make you that uncomfortable?" Sarah didn't answer. Uncomfortable wouldn't be the term she would use. "I would have called us enemies when you were here last. When I came Aboveground for you..."

"For your magic," she corrected.

"When I came Aboveground, I would have liked to call us lovers." Just hearing him say this made her tremble. "Friends is not a term in which I put much trust, which might make it a fairly accurate term to use where we are concerned. We are both interested in repairing my kingdom..."

"So, what, we work together?"

"Yes, that's it. We're colleagues!" The disappointment which ravaged her face made him second guess the term he had chosen. "As for what transpired between us the other evening," at this point he took her hand into his in an effort to be compassionate, "I assure you it was pleasurable, as I hope it was for you. But it was you who said that sometimes sex was just about having sex. In the Underground we have a similar philosophy. Some employ the services of a courtesan, a woman who is trained in the art of love making and whose purpose is to bring pleasure to the man or men who keep her in their employ."

"Like a prostitute! You think I'm just going to stay in your castle, your room, your bed for you to employ whenever you feel like it?" Sarah tried to jerk her hand from his, but he only tightened his grasp.

"Nothing like that." When he spoke, he spoke slowly and sincerely, not something he was used to doing with her. "A prostitute, as you say, implies that you would be compensated for your services, by monetary means. In your world that might seem like something done in cheap motels and backseats of vehicles and dark alleys. In the Underground, we don't have disease, making sex far less dangerous between multiple partners. Having a courtesan is really more of a status symbol. They are trained in ways of giving and receiving pleasure. It's an exchange of physical satisfaction where neither partner is left feeling as though they are deserving of compensation. Many boys are given a courtesan before they wed so that they may learn ways of pleasing their bride. Others aquire the woman to satisfy urges for which a steady mate is not available or is unable to perform."

Art of making love, exchange of physical satisfaction, he had a way of making it sound so romantic. At least better than the 'let's do it' she had become accustomed to. "So I'll be a courtesan to you while I'm here?"

"I have never required the assistance of a courtesan Sarah, although I have been asked to train a few in the past." She wasn't surprised. "There is no shortage of female company when you are king. Most are happy to offer themselves up to you just for the prestige of bedding a king." Though it sounded boastful, Jareth wore no look of pride. "You are not expected to serve as my courtesan; however, if you find yourself with urges, such as the one you experienced the other night, I am happy to satisfy them for you. At least that way I would have the piece of mind of knowing you were with someone honorable," he said trying to sound less obvious. "I am here to satisfy all of your needs as long as you are in my kingdom." Between the sincerity in his voice and the strength of his stare, Sarah grew uncomfortable.

"Thank you," she told him, pulling back her hand as she turned to hide her blush. It had suddenly seemed quite warm to her.

"There's no need to be embarrassed you know."

"I'm not," Sarah lied.

"Nonsense, all mortals blush that same way at the mention of sex." He paused before changing the topic. "I suppose we should get started on today's ride. As I figure it, we should reach the waterfall by night. We can camp there." Jareth packed up their bags and left the mortal to her solitude. The topic had obviously made her uncomfortable. He wondered why it was that mortals were so shy about sex and sexuality. Everyone was created out of it. Everyone possessed it. Most everyone engaged in it and yet, they perpetually denied it's existence. When he had wasted all the time he could, Jareth approached Sarah with Chataigne in tow. He knelt beside the horse to offer Sarah a leg up.

Atop the horse, Sarah became very aware of the steady rocking sensation that riding gave her. Jareth's words repeated in her head, 'I am happy to satisfy...all your needs as long as you are in my kingdom.' Before long, she noticed a warmth growing between her legs, a longing that made her want to take him up on his offer immediately. "Jareth," she called a bit more huskily than she meant to.

Halting Bagheera, he turned to face the mortal. "Yes?"

"Can we walk awhile?"

"If you are growing uncomfortable on horseback, we may."

"Yes." It wasn't completely a lie to say she had grown uncomfortable. "Please," she added.

Jareth helped her to the ground and for a bit they led their horses by the reins as they walked the miles toward Jareth's home. Sarah watched him more closely than she had dared before. She noticed his ease with the horse, the way he would sweep the hair from his eyes every now again, the graceful gait of his unnaturally long legs as they strolled. Shaking her head side to side she attempted to clear it of the music she heard playing.

The music she heard hadn't originated in her head at all for it drew the attention of the Goblin King as well. Humming along, Sarah found her feet joining in the unique rhythm and asked, "What is making that music? I don't think I've ever heard anything quite like it before."

"It's called a lute." For Jareth, that was a complete answer. When he noticed his mortal's brow furrow and lips curl, he gauged it hadn't been such a satisfactory response after all. "A lute is a stringed instrument played by an individual called a bard." The mortal always had more questions, so before she could ask, he continued, "A bard is a wandering musician. They sometimes travel in groups with other minstrels. Either way they travel the lands on foot singing songs in exchange for coppers, a form of money, or just to pass the time of day."

Sarah continued to hum and skip. Jareth watched her utilizing the sound, he loved the way she let music pass through her, making her whole body seem like an instrument. In the distance, he could see the bard happily plucking his instrument still oblivious to his audience. He reminded the king very much of his mortal. Jareth reached for her with a gloved hand. Once he had her attention, he pointed out the music maker. "There you have the source of your music. Just a silly troll."

"A troll? What do you mean a troll? One of those things that robbed us in the mountains?" Sarah stopped her humming and shuffling and looked at Jareth in great fear.

This made him laugh a bit, for this creature was an unbelievably timid breed. " A troll; however, there are many different species of troll. What we encountered in the mountains was a species called a cave troll. That," he pointed at the bard, "is a flod troll, a far less intimidating and more peaceable type. You'll find they'll go anywhere there is water." Finally it seemed he became conscious of his onlookers and began to move in their direction. As his music grew louder, Sarah began to hum with the unusual sound.

The troll stood before her, rocking from one foot to the other, a wide grin spread over his face. "Milady," he said bowing to her. Sarah smiled and performed a small curtsy in response.

"He's going to sing to you," Jareth whispered in her ear.

"To me?" Sarah asked, bending back her fingers against her chest. Jareth nodded.

"I was thrown on the cobblestones, tossed at her feet. My fool's mouth was filled with the dust from the street. An out of work court jester with nowhere to go and no need to speak for she seemed to know," the bard played a note or two before he sang the chorus. "She sings the songs without words, songs that sailors and blind men and beggars have heard. She knows more of love than the poet's can say and her eyes offer something that won't go away." Sarah continued to smile at his laughing eyes. Seeing the lady was pleased, he continued to serenade her. "This mad mocking town and it's dishonored guests disappeared in the colors that danced on her dress. She led me to safety in a forest of green and showed my stale eyes some sights never seen." The bard turned his attention to Jareth this time, "Won't you join me in the chorus my lord?"

"Indeed."

Together they sang, "She sings the songs without words, songs that sailors and blind men and beggars have heard. She knows more of love than the poet's can say and her eyes offer something that won't go away." By now Jareth's own feet had begun to shuffle.

"You sing magnificently, if you don't mind my saying. Now," he told the king with a wink and a nudge, "why not dance with the young lady."

Jareth bowed to Sarah, taking up the hand that wasn't holding Chataigne's reins. "May I?"

Her mouth couldn't form a reply, between the melody of the king's voice and the touching lyrics of the bard, she was powerless to resist. Jareth swept her neatly into his right arm, his left hand holding her right as he delicately swept her over the grass. The troll carried on with his song, "She spins magic and moonlight in her meadows and streams and seeks deep inside me and touches my dreams. The morning comes smiling and I laugh with no sound and snuggle in silence in the sweet peace I've found."

Once more, Jareth joined his voice together with the bard, "She sings the songs without words, songs that sailors and blind men and beggars have heard. She knows more of love than the poet's can say and her eyes offer something that won't go away." Sarah stared open mouthed into the king's eyes. It reminded her of another time, another dance.

Playing a bit of an extended solo, the troll allowed them to continue their elegant waltz a while longer before concluding his song, "No they won't go away, go away." As the entire song had been slow and folkish, these last few notes were especially slow. Jareth held his mortal a moment longer than the music played, finally setting her free with a bow of gratitude. Both bowed to the bard for his fine entertainment.

"I apologize, good man, but I've no coppers to share with you. In fact, I've no monies at all."

The bard grumbled at Jareth a bit, "Never mind the coppers, my lord, I sing for the privilege of witnessing milady's ravishing beauty."

"If I had a guitar..." Sarah began.

"A guitar milady?" Two sets of quizzical eyes focused on her when the minstrel asked.

"May I?" Sarah reached for his lute, which he relinquished to her grasp. "Thank you. A guitar," she explained, "is much like this lute, only with a longer neck." Her magic hands slid over the neck of the lute causing it to extend. "And the bottom kind of has a curve in it, like a figure eight." A few more passes over the body of the instrument and it became an acoustic model guitar.

"Play something for us," the troll clapped his hands together as he watched in awe of her creation.

"By all means," Jareth added. His hands were resting on his hips as he looked at her in amazement for her magic and anticipation for her song.

Sarah fiddled with the strings a bit, warming up, practicing a couple of cords. "It's been a long time, but I think I remember one song." She cleared her throat and in a voice that stifled all the power she had shown at her audition, one that rang like a bell while staying light enough to ride the breeze, she sang for them. "Wish I could tell you something you didn't know. Wish I could give you something you didn't own. Wish I could tell you a joke to make you smile and I could be with you awhile. Just want to be that someone you weren't looking for. Some nameless fascination that showed up at your door, and when you're sad and blue my jokes still make you smile, and I could be with you awhile. I just want to take you somewhere you haven't been. Find an old time movie where we don't know the end, lost in the radio, drive another mile, so I could be with you a while." As Sarah replayed the chorus on the guitar, she took in the expressions of the men who watched on. Both seemed pleased and that made her smile. "I just want to be that someone you weren't looking for. Some nameless fascination that showed up at your door, and when you're sad and blue my jokes still make you smile, and I could be with you awhile. Tired of serious conversations, tangled up in situations," her fingers began to strike the strings powerfully, the speed of the song changing for a few lines. "I feel so free cause you want nothing from me." She returned to the more easy, steady rhythm, the refrain changing just a bit this verse, "I just want to be that someone you weren't looking for. Some hopeless vagabond asleep there on your floor, and when you're old and gray, my jokes still make you smile, and I could be with you awhile. I just want to be with you awhile. I just want to be with you." The final brush of her delicate fingers over the strings echoed around them.

None of them spoke until the final note was carried out of earshot. It was the bard who piped up first, "Milady, you sing like a bird, no, like an angel. 'Tis I who should be giving up my coppers."

Sarah held up a hand to refuse his generosity, blushing as Jareth continued the flattery, "That is unlike any other song I've heard you sing." They weren't the most poetic words he'd ever spoken to her, but the expression on his face spoke more than his words.

"Thank you both. Guess I kept up with it more than I thought over the years." Sarah smoothed her hand over the guitar as if she were going to change it back.

"No, no, please," the bard interrupted. "If you don't mind, I'd like to keep it that way. No one will ever believe me if I do not show them the instrument with which the angel played. Tell me again how you call it?"

"It's a guitar." Sarah was actually relieved he had asked to keep the guitar. Either her magic didn't allow it or it just hadn't developed enough yet, but she wasn't capable of turning it back. The last pass of her hand did nothing to it's shape.

His fingers strolled over the stings familiarizing himself with the feel of the new instrument. "Milady, I thank you for your most generous gift. I hope to someday play for you once more." He bowed low before bounding off with his new guitar, pleased to have a story to sing about and such a beautiful new gem with which to do just that.

Jareth gathered Bagheera's reins once more. "Where'd you learn how to do that?"

"Sing? It's part of being a musical performer. Damnedest thing really, if you audition for musicals and you can't sing they really frown on giving you the part." Sarah stroked Chataigne's blaze when she grabbed his reins.

Matching her sarcasm, "You don't say! What a bizarre place the Aboveground is. Why, absolutely nothing makes sense there." His mocked shock made her chuckle. Seeing her chuckle made him smile and seeing him smile made her heart jump. "I meant play the guitar. That is what you called it, right?"

Sarah nodded. "My father taught me. I was ten when he bought me a guitar. It was rosewood with a mahogany neck and black body accents that had humming birds painted on them. To a ten year old it was like getting a new car. I couldn't let it out of my hands once I got the feel for it. I'd set it down and after a minute or so, I'd twirl around looking for it like I'd set down my own arm or something. The first night I had it," Sarah paused in the telling of the story from her childhood and started walking again. Jareth followed behind eager to hear about that first night.

"What happened the first night you had it?"

"I slept with it," she admitted. "Every night after that, when dad got home, I'd wait for him to take off his coat and kiss my mother, then I'd crawl into his lap and ask him to teach me something new, a chord or a bridge, anything. By the time I was 12, I was taking lessons at school instead, while dad sat at home waiting for me to get back so he could leave to get Karen." Feeling as if she'd said too much, Sarah concluded the tale, "I still have that guitar...at home."

"You miss it don't you? Home I mean." His mortal certainly seemed forlorn.

"I miss my father, the one I remember, not the one Karen made." Sarah's shoulders squared as she kept moving, desperately avoiding his stare, ashamed that even after all these years, she was unable to put that part of her past behind her.

Jareth mourned for her. After all, he knew what it was like to remain just out of reach of a parent's capacity to love. What Sarah felt was not so different from what he had lived through with the Leanan Sidhe, but at least she had a handful of pleasant memories where her father was concerned. Quickening his steps, the king joined her at her side, "Perhaps you might do me the favor of teaching me to play this instrument, this guitar of yours."

"You? The Goblin King playing guitar." Even the idea made her laugh. "But I didn't think you had those here."

"No matter. Now that I know of them, I shall summon one with my magic, or you could fashion one with your magic, out of a twig and a few pieces of twine." She smiled as he bent to offer her a branch that had fallen in the path before them.

Her tiny hand reached out and pushed it aside while she did her best to contain a giggle. Happy eyes looked up at him, charmed by the tender way he chased the pain from her heart. "I'd be happy to teach you," Sarah told him, "but you must teach me something in return." There was an inflection in her tone that was neither shy, nor demur.

Jareth widened his eyes before cocking one eyebrow and wordlessly surmising that she was hinting at the skills they had discussed earlier, the courtesans he'd been asked to break in. Her fingers walked along the laces of his vest as she stopped him by crossing into his path. "Come now Jareth, there must be some skill you have that you could teach me."

"Sarah, if you're suggesting that I…"

"Something you're very," she kissed just below his chin, "very," then a little further down his neck, "very," and lastly at the hollow of his throat, "good at."

For the love of the Underground, she could be cruel. "If you are suggesting," he said firmly and patiently, "that I teach to be a courtesan, my answer to you will be the same as it has been to the others who have asked before you." Grey leather swept over his neck in a vain effort to remove the heat which had developed there.

"I don't want to be a courtesan," Sarah told him in a mixture of mischievous laughter and mild shock. "I merely thought we could have an exchange of the arts, if you will. I teach you the art of music. You teach me the art of making love, unless you think I would do poorly as a student."

Jareth mustered all of his calm. 'You do poorly as a student,' he thought. Was that possible? She was testing his limits and he knew it, trying to use the same twisted rationale he'd used with her in the past. The king loved and hated the games they played with one another. She was still before him, looking up at him, trying to destroy the trance he'd put himself in that kept him from reacting to her nearness and her suggestion. "We're out in the open," he said grasping her hands stilling them from the busy work they were doing to unlace his vest.

Even Sarah didn't know where this boldness had come from, but it had grown furiously, quickly taking control of her. Making love to Jareth had been like sampling someone else's plate, suddenly, she no longer wanted what she had, instead she wanted more of what she had sampled. Nothing else seemed satisfying. "That's the beauty of our little arrangement, isn't it? We're not some naive couple, head over heals in love with one another to the point that we can't fulfill our most carnal desires for fear the other will feel unappreciated. You said yourself, that you would be happy to satisfy all of my needs while I was in your kingdom. Don't tell me you're going all mortal on me now, suddenly embarrassed at the innuendo of sex?" Lips pursed, eyebrows raised, she awaited his reply. Opportunity had lent itself to her being able to use his own words back at him, an opportunity that she was going to take full advantage of.

She had bested him again. Jareth's hands reached to remove the vest her roaming fingers had undone. Sarah backed away in surprise. "So I did." He advanced toward her, but she backed away as he got close. "Sarah, for someone so eager to take lessons, you seem to be ready to leave before class has even begun." The king could be smug.

Sarah had not counted on Jareth's response. She thought he'd back down as she became more aggressive. In hindsight, she had no idea why she'd thought that. What to do? Come up with something clever to push this whole exchange off as a bit of a laugh or rather, admit to what her body craved, surrender to her king and quench a thirst which had arose in her much more quickly than she cared to admit?

The flowing sleeve of her shirt rose to her elbow as Sarah set her wrist against his shoulder, her long fingers twirling a few strands of his unruly blonde hair. "I do so hope that my insolence won't cause me to be detained too long after class."

Both shock and sensuality surged through the Goblin King. His hands found her hips and swung her round where he could lean her against the trunk of the tree whose branch they had picked up just moments earlier. With one arm securely around her waist and the other braced along the trunk, above her head, he leaned over her. 'Mortal girl, you know not what you do to me,' he thought as his attention flicked from her hungry eyes to her parted lips and back again. Glove rising from hip to head, he gently lowered Sarah's temple against his shoulder, Jareth's mouth descended on her neck, open lips cascading over her flesh, sliding up behind her ear, before pulling back to reveal his elongated eye teeth. Sarah's eyes closed as she gave in to the sensation of his mouth on her, the mild and delightful pain of being massaged by his teeth, the wetness his tongue left behind. When she felt the coolness of the breeze against the spot he'd just warmed, Sarah opened her eyes. "Lesson one," he purred capturing her mouth with his.

'Dear God,' Sarah thought, 'if that was lesson one she would be doing a lot of studying.' She let him go on kissing her until his explorations left her feeling weak, but licentious.

"Jareth," Sarah moaned at his touch.

"What is it, love?" he asked when he didn't really need to.

There were no dignified words for what Sarah wanted to ask of the Goblin King, "Jareth, please."

"You disappoint me, Sarah. Where has my fearless woman gone? The one who spoke of fulfilling carnal desires, ready to rebel against her conservative mortal restraints. Lesson number two, I can only guess what brings you pleasure." He spoke and even his breath seemed to caress her body. Sarah quaked in anticipation. "Stop thinking about what's to come Sarah," he said, a slight play in his words, "and concentrate on what's happening now. Tell me what it is you want."

"You." It was a weak answer, one she knew would not satisfy him, but she just couldn't articulate the ideas in her mind.

"You'll develop that skill in time love," he promised her with great patience. "Until then, this entire kingdom bows to me, but it is I who kneels before you." With that Jareth sank to his knees and held her eye before he fulfilled the unspoken desire of his mortal.

Jareth delighted her again and again until she begged him to stop in a throaty voice that seemed short of breath. A few moment's more and he conceded to her request. When he stood before her, he felt himself fill with pride at her flushed and disheveled appearance. Today's lesson had not ended. The king pressed himself to her and purred into her neck, "Lesson three, Sarah." She had never heard her name sound so sweet coming from any other lips before. "When you think you cannot tolerate another second of pleasure, is when you hunger for it most." No one knew this better than the king. For as he buried himself inside her, he was unsure of his ability to keep the promise the king had made himself to withhold his pleasures and retain the remainder of his soul and yet, he felt as if he'd die without the perfect closeness that joining in this way afforded him.

When Sarah's satisfaction came her body was limp and Jareth's will was thin. They parted slowly and set to straightening the clothes that had been bunched and twisted in their frenzy, smoothing the hair that was stray and wild. Despite the open air and broad daylight, a passerby would not suspect what had just happened there beneath the tree. Sarah came up beside Jareth taking his cheek into her palm she met his lips. "Thank you," she told him kissing his mouth gently and briefly. "I had no idea it could be that way."

His hand covered hers, "Do mortal men not please their women before themselves?"

"Mortal men don't please their women much, in or out of bed, for that matter; atleast not the ones I've ever known."

Pulling Sarah's hand from his cheek, he kissed her warm palm, "It was my pleasure to please you. Thank you for that privilege." He led her passed him, "Go refresh yourself in the cool waters of the stream and I'll prepare us something to eat.

"Great, I'm starving," she said as she went to the water's edge.

The Goblin King watched her leave his side, the way the her legs seemed to glide. The aftermath of passion wore well on her, put her whole being at ease. It was much different for the king. Denying himself satisfaction had filled him with a tension, one which he wondered whether or not he could withstand for six more weeks.


	20. Chapter 20

**CHAPTER TWENTY - HOME AGAIN, HOME AGAIN**

Whether it had been their rendezvous in the meadow or the delicious meal they consumed afterward, Jareth and Sarah made excellent time in arriving at the waterfall, in time to set up camp and a glowing fire before the sun went down. Sarah sat beside the fire, her knees to her chest so that her chin could rest upon the cool leather of the riding pants she wore. Watching the flames dance hypnotized her. With Jareth off hunting them something for diner, she had the freedom to let her thoughts run wild. Of course her thoughts were of her king, lately little else could capture her attention.

This would be their last night together alone. Tomorrow night they would be back at the castle, back among Jareth's servants and constituents, before the curious eye of his subjects and beneath the oppressive thumb of the Triumvirate. Sarah wondered how much their relationship would change. If Jareth would allow her the freedoms he had said she would have or if they would return to his primitive methods of restraining prisoners who tried to find the kitchen in the middle of the night. At the idea of being restrained, Sarah's mind wandered down a completely different path. It was unlike her to get caught up in thoughts of intimacy and even more unlike her that they would be so decadent. 'Fantasies never hurt anyone,' she told her conscious.

'Everything you've done for the last week has been one huge fantasy,' her ego spat back.

Her better judgment couldn't help clarify, 'Let's not forget, you're no longer Aboveground. You've come to where the fantasies live and breathe, not to mention you come with the power to bring things to life. You're little fantasies might not be so harmless here.'

"Go to hell," she told herself, bitter at her better judgment for ruining her fun.

"Beg your pardon," Jareth said as he landed behind her, resuming his fey form, a fresh kill in his hand.

She looked up at him, blushing instantly, "I wasn't talking to you."

"I see, and who were you talking to?"

"No one."

"But you were talking, correct?"

"Yes, it's a mortal thing I guess, talking to oneself." She tried to dissuade him from inquiring about the topic of her one woman conversation.

"Nonsense. We immortals talk to ourselves all the time," a gloved hand stroked the top of her head, "only we're not foolish enough to admit it." At the rocks beside the falls, Jareth prepared his prey for the evening's meal.

Sarah watched him, not knowing how many more times she would have this opportunity. He'd removed his frock coat and vest. His sleeves pushed as far up his arms as they would go. In the bask of the flames she could see the light marbled design of his breeches as they conformed to his behind and rolled over the muscles in his legs. As always, his fingertips obscured by the damnable black gloves she had come to resent. Today, beneath the tree, he had worn them while they were together, but she attributed that to the eagerness with which they had been overcome. Thinking on it, he had worn them that first night in the tent. She had recalled thinking for just a second that he looked odd, stood before her completely naked except for his gloves.

"What are you thinking about?" Jareth asked as he brought the cleaned rabbit meat to the fire.

"Huh?" Sarah asked raising her eyebrows.

"Your face is all knotted up and your jaw is practically on the ground. You're just not yourself tonight. I hope you're not catching cold from insisting on being out in the rain the other night."

"What's going to happen when we get back to your castle?" Sarah blurted out the question.

Jareth looked at her quizzically. Her inquiry certainly hadn't been anticipated. Sitting beside the fire to tend to their meal, which his mortal was obviously too distracted to do, Jareth replied, "That's a very general question."

"You know what I mean."

"I think I do," the king stole a glance at her while she wasn't paying attention. "I suspect there will be a certain amount of upheaval. I'll need to announce your arrival, make arrangements with the Representatives for your visits, make you known to my staff and my subjects. I suspect it will be quite some time before there is calm." He'd anticipated she'd say something in response. Start asking the millions of questions mortals seemed to trouble themselves with. When she said nothing, he continued, "You'll need to be made familiar with the castle and the grounds. I know you'll want to spend some time with Hog's Head." Sarah didn't even bother correcting him. "Sarah, are you certain you're alright?"

"You don't have the slightest idea what I'm talking about." Her words were angry but spoken softly, more filled with hurt more than anything. Her eyes washed over him in a way that made Jareth feel mortal. Mortal in the sense that he had, in that moment, become just like every other man the girl had given herself too. Without her confirming, he knew.

"Sarah," he began in a tone that was tender but annoyed, "must we continuously go over this. You are my guest as long as you are in the Underground, I will be your servant. You have but to tell me what it is you need," he looked away before adding, "in any respect."

Offended by his assumption, "It's not just that. I don't know anything about royalty. I mean sure out here where no one can watch us you've had your moments of civility with me, even times when you were able to make a joke or tell me about your family, but tomorrow when we're back among people who expect you to be a king," Sarah paused to suppress a sob, "how will you treat me then?"

For a moment, Jareth wished she had been talking about their relations, it would have been easier. He cleared his throat, "It's true. I will not have the open freedoms I have with you now when we are in the presence of others. I am expected to maintain a certain decorum. Do you think that I enjoy what is expected of me?" Sarah shook her head, convinced by his mannerism that he vehemently did not. Jareth did not fail to notice the wetness which she tried to hold back in her eyes. "You allow me a great latitude, one for which I am most grateful, but Sarah, I fear that you might be developing feelings for me that I cannot return." The king lowered his brow and surveyed her closely.

Using the back of her hand, Sarah wiped away a few of the tears which had managed to run free. "You flatter yourself," she lied. "I'd like to think that we could have a mortal friendship. I'd like to think that when I come to you it's to seek the comfort of a friend and not just a business arrangement."

"I've made my feelings on friendship quite clear. I can call you friend if that is what will make you happy, but you should know that I hold no loyalty to friends," he spat the word distastefully from his lips.

Things were coming together in Sarah's mind. The way he wanted her love immediately fifteen years ago, the way he refused to her the chance to get to know who he was. Jareth's extreme distaste for friendship ran deep into his heart. It wasn't macho independence or aristocratic supremacy, he had let someone get close and been crossed by them. Tears dried, Sarah's eyes grew sympathetic, "Who hurt you?" When Jareth didn't respond, she asked again. "Who hurt you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes you do. This distaste you have for friendship, the way you keep everyone at such a length, that's not part of who you are. You deny yourself the company of others. You refuse Arulan's affections, Hoggle's assistance, the Cleric's offers. Someone must have done something awful to you to make you want to shut yourself off like that, to make you incapable of trusting anyone."

This was the other side of what she alone did for him. Yes, she offered him freedom, but she also pressed for him to accept a freedom he feared, a vulnerability he did not believe he could endure. "Dinner's ready," the Goblin King muttered, removing the pan from the flames and setting it aside.

"I'm not hungry."

"Neither am I," he sulked as he walked off into the thicket behind them.

Sarah remained by the fire feeling awful for exposing him, but ready to be compassionate when he returned. She hoped he would return. All these years, she'd focused on what he'd done to her. Only recently had she even given a thought to what she'd done to him. Now she was realizing that in the 257 years he'd been alive, he had been hurt too. Probably in a lot of the same ways she had and by many of the same types of people. The differences between the Aboveground and the Underground narrowed for her. Some of her animosity had been let go, cast into the fire, whose flames she continued to watch, refusing to move until her king returned.

By the time Jareth returned, it was well into the early morning hours. The mortal had fallen asleep by the fire. He noticed that she did end up picking at some of what he had prepared. In all honesty, he had burnt the meal and didn't blame her for not wanting any. His long walk had helped to diffuse some of his anger. Looking at her sleep, he found his complex feelings growing, mutating into something new, something more. Undoubtedly, anyone, let alone a mortal, this mortal, reading into him the way she had done infuriated him, but he was thankful that she was able to see beyond the airs he wore, recognize him as something more. He dreamed of being able to confess his truths to her. Maybe, if he did, when they took her from him she would remember, that while he had been robbed of his mortality he was still, at least in part, human.

Strong arms scooped her up. She was warm from lying in the glow of the flames and snuggled against him instinctively. Nudging him under the chin, she felt like a child in his arms. His lips pressed down on her hair as he inhaled her scent. Inside the tent he wrapped Sarah in a blanket. For a long while he watched her sleep. Whether or not he wanted to admit it, she was perceptive when it came to him, but there was still so much she didn't know, that he couldn't tell her, both because of the short amount of time they would have together and his own stubbornness. 'A fey's heart is never in question,' he thought. They were a physical reflection of the person they were inside. In that logic, Sarah could have been fey, for she was as beautiful inside as she was on the surface.

Weariness got the better of him, causing him to lay himself beside her. His arms wanted so to wrap around her body, feel the heat of her beside him, be sung to sleep by the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she dreamt. He rolled onto his side, back towards her, practically pressing his nose to the canvas wall of the tent. That was how Sarah found him when she woke up. She'd been asleep since early evening and felt relieved to find Jareth had returned. Waking up inside the tent shocked her, especially when she didn't feel him next to her. When she found him on the other side of the tent, she grumbled a bit about his being stubborn and acting like a child. "I mean it's ridiculous at his age," she concluded her rant.

"Fey have a very heightened sense of hearing, did you know that?" he asked without moving a muscle.

"Did I wake you?" she said tentatively.

"No. The level of sleep I was able to achieve was not a deep one to begin with. I've been awake most of the night. I thought it better if I at least got some rest." He turned to face her, surprised by how close she had come to where he lie.

"So you heard…"

"Everything? Yes, I heard."

Sarah blushed, "Honestly, you can be all of those things."

"Indeed." A slight frown played at his lips.

"But you can be more Jareth. I've seen it, you just need to show everyone else."

"It's complicated Sarah. Go back to sleep."

"I'm not tired."

"I am a king. I must behave as I'm expected to behave. These moments you have seen me have all been weaknesses. Do you know what would become of me if I showed weakness to my adversaries?"

"I don't think it's weak to have feelings, it's very basic, very…"

"Human," Jareth finished her thought. He never failed to find the line between their worlds and darken it. "While being in touch with one's feelings might be an admirable Aboveground quality, in my world it is as good as a frock made of iron."

"But all the pain you're carrying around inside..." She felt her eyes tearing again for she knew that pain herself. "How does that help you to be a good king? When does someone take care of what you need?"

"Pain hardens a heart Sarah. Sometimes a new scar is like healing an old one. The grief becomes so immense that it settles too deep inside to acknowledge anymore."

Tears began to fall. Sarah only assumed he was talking about the pain she had caused him when she left, the pain of the second rejection healing it over and failing to acknowledge his feelings for her. "Well," she said choking back the tears and attempting to appear undaunted, "not anymore. As long as I'm here, as long as you'll be seeing to my needs, I will be seeing to yours as well." He looked at her amused, knowing that they were both assigning different meanings to the same set of words. "I mean if there's something you want to talk about, I want you to know you have a fri..." she corrected herself, "someone you can come to."

A smile rolled over his lips, "Thank you," he said, his hand sneaking out from beneath the blanket to run through her wavy hair, smoothing it down as it had gotten rather feral in her sleep. "You know that while I may call you friend, I still don't trust you." It wasn't harshly that he said the words, it was honest. Nothing that transpired between them had caused him to find her trustworthy and while he hoped he was wrong, he didn't see that anything ever could.

"Trust can be earned," she said it with a great confidence, nearly enthusiasm, that shook even the king.

Jareth gave her a subtle nod, "That remains to be seen."

Sarah smiled at him making him feel completely helpless. "I feel like we should commemorate this somehow. It's a very big step you've taken." Without warning, the glove that had been flattening her hair slid to her neck. Jareth pulled her to him, capturing her lips with his. It was a powerful, needful kiss which told Sarah just how long the king had waited for someone he could confide in. Returning his kiss with equal passion she wound her arms around his shoulders. A sigh escaped her as she realized he had removed his shirt entirely for sleeping. Fingers slid over his back, the tips of her nails gently scrapping his skin. Soon, a hardness pressed into her stomach and she realized that he had removed his pants for sleeping as well. When he broke their kiss she said, "Aboveground we just shake hands."

The Goblin King positioned himself above his mortal, eager fingers working at her waistband attempting to free her shirt from it's constraints. "We're no longer Aboveground."

When they had finally torn themselves apart from one another, Sarah lie contentedly beneath the king's arm, listening to him breathe. "Jareth," she called. "Jareth?" He must have fallen asleep, otherwise the acute hearing he'd bragged about earlier would have forced him to respond. He continually amazed her with his skills in bed, bringing her to orgasm several times in the hour or so which they had spent entwined. And yet, as her hand roamed his body, she found that he was still fully erect, as if he could have kept at it much longer. There was a trick no mortal man could pull off without the aid of medications. She allowed her hand to stroke him, softly.

The king frightened her half to death when he awoke, grabbing at her hand to still the steady motion. "Are you never satisfied?" he asked her playfully.

"I was about to ask you the same thing."

With an easy palm he guided her head back to his chest and held her hand above his heart before he closed his eyes once more, placing a kiss on her forehead he admitted, "I am quite content, of this I assure you."

When at last they left the tent, they ate and before they prepared to ride back through the Labyrinth Sarah attempted to convince Jareth to go for a swim. "I don't swim," he protested, "besides we haven't the time."

Sarah lured him to the water's edge where she sat trolling her foot through the water. "It's wonderfully comfortable, just like a bathtub." She leaned back allowing her arms to support her, tossing back her head so the sun could kiss at her neck and face.

Jareth found her incredibly appealing when she was happy. "Do you want to be forced to spend another day out here?"

"As a matter of fact," she admitted as she shift her weight to her hands and kicked water in the king's direction.

He looked at her stunned. She only smiled. "I didn't see that coming," he said mockingly, extending his arms and shaking the water from the surface of his clothing.

"Then you better keep your eyes open this time," her foot flicked repeatedly through the water until he was sufficiently doused.

Jareth fought his way through the spray, pinned her legs to the ground between his own and lie her back onto the soft, sweet smelling grass. His hands held her shoulders while he shook his mane wildly, returning most of the water that she had sent there in the first place. Screaming like a child, "Jareth, stop. You're getting me all wet," she managed to say between bouts of hysterical laughter.

The king stopped shaking his head. Sarah stopped laughing. For a moment they just looked at one another. It was Sarah who grew uncomfortable first and looked away. When she dared to look back, Jareth had not moved, had not blinked. As his head lowered to kiss her, her head rose to meet his lips half way. Loosening his grip on her shoulders, Jareth rolled back on his haunches and accepted her into his arms as she continued to sit up. As their kiss intensified Sarah's hand worked away the king's coat, followed by the king's shirt. When he leaned back to free her of her garments as well, she set her hands on his chest, touching him lightly, admiring what she saw and, when he least expected it, pushing him back into the water that pooled beneath the fall.

Sarah was curled in hysterics when the Goblin King resurfaced, his hair clung to his face. "Is this what friends do to one another?" he asked as he tread water in the center of the pool.

"Yes," she managed between bursts of laughter, "this is exactly the kind of thing friends do to each other."

"And you wondered why I was hesitant to give you such a title." He extended one sopping glove to her, "Come on now, you've managed to waste even more time." Sarah offered her hand in return. He sounded quite serious and she hoped she hadn't taken their little joke too far.

"Oh, you can change into dry pants with a flick of your wrist," she mentioned, casually.

Struggling a bit for effect, he flailed about before locking tightly onto her hand and yanking her in with him. When she resurfaced he was chuckling, "So I can, you; however, will be riding round with a wet bottom all afternoon."

Sarah was stunned. The idea that he could be so playful thrilled her and at seeing filled with joy, her own heart grew, still she was soaked to the bone now. Jareth was right, she couldn't just easily change into something dry. Her curled lips loosened. She wiped the hair from her face and removed her boots, tossing them to shore. Next her pants, walking them to the bank so she could lie them out in the sun.

"What are you doing?" Jareth asked.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Sarah countered. His mouth hung open when she turned to face him, her blouse clung to her chest, her hardened nipples protruding from beneath the now almost transparent fabric. "I'm putting out my clothes to dry." She slipped the fabric over her head and spread it out on the shore as she had done with the rest of her garments, then sank into the warm water of the falls. "Mmmm," she moaned, "I told you this would be a good idea."

"Milady," he said silkily, "now that you are not quite so overdressed, I have ideas far better than this one. I told you once, I'm not much of a swimmer," Jareth admitted coming behind Sarah, encircling her waist with his arms.

'This was something different,' she thought. Each time they'd been together up until now she had approached him, but this time, he had come to her. She used no terms of suggestion, no means of seduction, merely went along her business of needing to dry her clothes. The wet gloves slid easily over her skin, stimulating her senses more than she would have expected them to. When they settled over her breasts, she clutched his hands with her own, "Perhaps you're still a bit over dressed, king?"

Slowly he snaked his hands from beneath hers, drawing his mouth close to her ear, he whispered, "Trust me when I tell you this," his hands roamed further down her body, "I can bring you quite a bit of pleasure even through these flimsy leather layers." With that his hands found her thighs and began a torturously slow climb.

Jareth felt the wetness that came from his mortal and easily distinguished it from the water that engulfed them. Expertly he touched her making a rolling purr travel up her throat . She felt him smile against her neck. 'Damn him,' she thought, 'damn him for being able to make her feel this way.'

He led her into the grotto where behind the roaring falls, they joined once more. His hands memorizing every peak and valley of her body as if time meant nothing to him. Again and again Sarah let him take her to the edge and beyond, crying out his name, learning to find her voice with him. Jareth's tolerance was near spent when he her last moan left her swollen lips and he withdrew hurriedly hiding himself in the deeper waters. He watched her lie still, the tension having left every muscle of her body. He listened to her coo as she stretched back to life, her face full of contentment. Donning what he was sure was a dopey grin, he welcomed her as she approached him.

"Mmmh," she hummed against his neck. "Let's never go back to the castle. Let's just live in the grotto with the Leprechaun."

'If only,' he allowed himself to dream with her; however, the arousal created by her kissing was forcing the dull pain in his groin to radiate into his stomach. "I've a kingdom to run Sarah. I can't merely hide away in a stone hole spending my days and nights seeking the gratification of a woman." He hated that the pain made it sound like a chastisement. He was hoping he could keep up the playful demeanor they had established earlier.

'He had said a woman, not this woman,' Sarah thought. She had become a passing fancy to him. Another of what she was beginning to believe was a very long line of women who he had taken advantage of. There were the Gavel's words coming back to mock her. But the king had been clear, there was no point in her developing feelings for him because he could not return them. Six weeks, six weeks to take advantage of him the way he had of her. 'Develop a courtesan's heart,' she told herself. 'No one walks away feeling owed. Learn to give and to receive pleasure, nothing more. With steely resolve, the mortal turned from his side. "Then I shall go and see if my clothes are dried." When she had gone, Jareth remained, the pain in his stomach migrating to his chest.

Creating a towel for herself as she had before, Sarah dried and began dressing. Her clothes were not completely dry, but they would do well enough for the ride back to the castle. Jareth appeared suddenly beside her, dressed and ready. It did not escape his attention that her blouse was still damp and therefore clung nicely around her unrestrained breasts. "I'll be ready in a minute, just need to get my hair pulled back." Sarah had mistaken his admiration for impatience.

"I didn't mean to be harsh before."

"Yes you did."

"No, I really didn't." He attempted to reach for her, but she jerked away.

Sarah gathered Chataigne and took him beside the rock face where she had mounted him on her own before and situated herself on her gelding. "Yes, you really did. You always do. Just when I think there's a chance that you'll act even mostly civilized you remind me that you are a king, better than me, better than your subjects. It constantly amazes me that you don't argue with yourself for superiority. Let's just get back to the castle where at least I'll expect you to act like an ass."

Jareth mounted Bagheera quickly, flapping the reins in a sharp flicker that sent the mustang dashing toward the Labyrinth. Sarah followed behind him, not to be outdone by his show, driving Chataigne to match the stallion's speed. All the while they ran, she mumbled, "Tell me not to drive the horses this way, but you can do anything you please. Just like you, what's good for the goose, do as I say, how typical."

When the Labyrinth walls were in sight, Jareth slowed his horse. When Sarah saw him raise his hand, she followed suit and together they trotted to the Labyrinth doors, both eager for their time alone to come to an end and yet, secretly, desperate for it to stay. "When we enter the Labyrinth, while you are in the castle, I will expect that you treat me with a certain amount of respect. I won't allow you to cause dissension while you're here. In exchange, I will be as courteous to you as I can be without straining the social boundaries of my culture." Jareth washed over her with his eyes, "Unless you find that too goose-like."

Sarah blushed. Curse the fey for their heightened senses! "I forgot you could hear."

"Tell me," he asked guiding Bagheera close to the gelding, "Aboveground, does one always focus on a friend's faults?" Sarah met his penetrating gaze, held it a moment and then looked away ashamed.

Hoggle greeted them at the gate. "Sarah?" Surprise rang in his voice, "Whatta you doin' here? Why didn't they send you home?"

"Is that anyway to show your gratitude for the extra time you've been allotted with the mortal?" Jareth asked. "And you Sarah, dismount and give your friend a proper greeting."

Both the dwarf and the woman looked at him suspiciously before she lowered herself to the ground and ran to Hoggle. Falling to her knees, she wrapped her arms about the dwarf's stout frame and pulled him close. His eyes fell closed as he ran a hand over her silky locks. Breathing in deeply, he caught Jareth's scent on her and sighed. Looking up at the king, prepared to twist his small face in a menace of disgust, he found the king smiling, leaned back on his horse, satisfied that he had brought these two back together. Hoggle held Sarah back to arms length, "What happened?"

Tears were in her eyes at this reunion. "The Triumvirate has decided I should stay until the Underground is fully repaired. I've been given six weeks."

"Six weeks," the dwarf looked at the king once more. "Six weeks?"

"It is as she said," Jareth confirmed.

"But that's unheard of," Hoggle insisted.

"You can discuss the details tomorrow at dinner, for now, we need to get back through this Labyrinth before nightfall. We would fare much better on foot if you would be so kind as to see that these horses get back to Gribbin."

"Yes, yer majesty," the dwarf took Chataigne's reins as Jareth dismounted and handed Bagheera over to him. "Whatta you mean dinner…tomorrow night?" He gave the king a quizzical and suspicious look.

"You, Hoggle, and your family are formally invited to dine with us tomorrow night, at the castle, in honor of our new guest."

"It's Hoggle!" Over the years the response had become second nature.

"That's what I said," the king replied.

"So it is," he was even more suspicious now. Glancing at Sarah, he saw the same smile he had seen on the king earlier. "Well, for Sarah," he stressed, "we accept."

"Splendid. You will arrive at six, dinner will be served at six thirty." Jareth approached the Labyrinth door. Sarah placed a kiss atop Hoggle's head and followed to the king's side. "Ahem," the king coughed.

Hoggle hadn't moved, still frozen to the spot where he stood at Jareth's invitation.

"Would you mind?" Jareth indicated to the doors.

"Huh?…Oh," the dwarf swung an arm and the doors flew open. "This oughtta be interestin'!"

He had spoken true their first day out when he told her that without horses, they could easily master the Labyrinth in a couple of hours. Listening carefully to his instructions they reached the Goblin City by early evening. "I'm impressed," she admitted when they were finally done scattering about and could more leisurely stroll through the city.

"To be fair, it is my labyrinth."

"No, you called Hoggle by his name. That's why I'm impressed." Looking away shyly she added, "Thank you for inviting him to dinner. I know that you did that just for me."

'Mostly for her,' he thought. "If I'm honest, I need someone to help me run this place while I'm seeing to your stay. Since he was the one to watch over things while I was Aboveground, I thought it best to ask him once more."

"I see. Well I do hope that I'm not taking up too much of your time."

"It is a necessary distraction," he said flatly.

Sarah didn't know whether to be offended or not. A trumpet blew very near where they walked keeping her from deciding. "The girl! The girl!" a goblin screamed as he ran round in circles. "Someone alert the king!"

Another cried out, "It's your job to alert the king."

"Right," he agreed. "Yer majesty!" he shouted.

"Yes," Jareth replied coolly.

"The girl!"

He was in the mood to play, "Which girl?"

"The mortal girl who returned to your Labyrinth."

"What of her?"

"She's returned…again."

Jareth knelt to face the goblin, donning a look of feigned shock, he inquired, "Where?"

The goblin held up one hand to shield Sarah's eyes and with the other hand pointed a finger in her direction. "She's right there your majesty."

Leaning into the goblin, Jareth cupped his ear and whispered, "I know. I'm the one who brought her here," and then rose, his hands on his hips, his throat filled with laughter.

Bracing himself for a swift kick or hearty toss, the goblin waited. No retaliation came. Jareth continued to laugh as he and Sarah left the creature and continued toward the castle. Once at the doors, they were greeted by Arulan and two other elfin servants. "Welcome home your grace," they said in unison with curtsies.

Jareth nodded and they rose. "Ladies, I present to you Sarah Williams. By order of the Triumvirate, she will be our guest for the next six weeks. I trust that you will all do everything within your power to make her feel at home."

Arulan rushed to her side, "I've got the seamstress making you a wardrobe of clothes and Mason started on your room yesterday. It should be ready by week's end. Oh, welcome home Sarah," she cried as she flung her arms around the girl.

"Welcome home Lady Sarah," the others said, again with the curtsies.

A tear gathered in the corner of her eye and Sarah took a deep breath trying to keep it there. "Thank you and please, just call me Sarah."

"I'm sure our guest would like to freshen up," Jareth told Arulan.

"Yes, your grace," she said waving to the other women. "Take her to the king's bath and let her get ready. You'll find a wardrobe in his chambers with her clothes." Arulan then turned to the king, "How was your trip?"

"You moved her clothes into my room?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I just assumed. It is the only bed in the castle where she could fit comfortably, unless you were to send her to the stables with Gribbin."

Jareth smiled, "Our trip was educational. The Triumvirate has made quite the number of exceptions for this mortal. Pour us some tea and we'll talk while she readies herself."

Arulan looked at him puzzled by his willingness to share of himself. "Your majesty, you wish to talk with me?"

"Indeed I do Arulan," he replied, reaching out his arm for her to take. "Tell me, would you say we were," he paused, "friends?"

His servant sat in awe as Jareth told her how Sarah had displayed her magic before the Triumvirate. When he admitted the men had suggested Sarah stay in the castle, Arulan blushed and smiled widely. "You are a relentless woman," the king admonished.

"Nothing is the same since her arrival, least of all you. I live in a fantasy world, my king, what kind of immortal would I be if I didn't believe in happy endings."

Jareth leaned in to place a kiss against her forehead, filling Arulan's heart with happiness.

"Your grace," he heard two distinct voices call. Jareth set down his tea cup and acknowledged the maids.

Sarah stood between them in a simple sheath dress the color of emeralds. Her hair had been brushed until it shone and cascaded over her shoulders obscuring the straps of the dress. Two silver combs pulled the sides back from her face, adding fullness while accentuating her natural beauty. Her lips, stained red, the only thing to be touched by make up. The smile she'd worn down the stairs to the sitting room had disappeared when she was lead inside to find Jareth kissing Arulan, no matter how innocently. She kept her mouth steady, lips pressed together, refusing to show expression. "Milady," Jareth said with a bow, "won't you join us for a cup of tea."

Choosing a chair, rather than the settee where the king had been with Arulan, Sarah folded her legs neatly at the ankle and placed a napkin across her lap. One of the maids held her cup while the other poured. "Cream or sugar," she asked.

"Both," Sarah replied. "Thank you."

Arulan sensed her discomfort, knowing the king would be too enthralled with her appearance, she decided to break the tension herself. "So Sarah, what did you think of the further reaches of the Underground."

"It was all very lovely," she said before sipping her tea, "and very charming." When she spoke again her focus was on Jareth.

With the two of them so intensely focused on one another it was Arulan who now felt uncomfortable. "Yes, well I'm sure that you'll find there are many beautiful," the elf doubted by now that she was even listening, "areas in the kingdom." Great relief befell the servant when the doorbell rang. "Thank the Supreme One," she muttered

Arulan and the other two maids greeted the guest and brought him to the sitting room to be announced to the king, "Your grace, Deverell of Burggraaf."

Jareth rose, brows knitted when a stranger had been announced. "Speak your business," he commanded.

"Your majesty, I come at the request of the Cleric." His hand thrust forward, a scroll in his palm. Jareth unrolled the document and skimmed it's content. "You'll find that his honor has asked me to join you in this time of upheaval that I may help you rule your kingdom until such time as you are no longer in need of my services. There are a number of glowing recommendations which I am happy to provide, but none so impressive as having been chosen by the Cleric himself. In Burggraaf I am known to be an honest and courageous fey. I have no desire to be king, not of Burggraaf and not of the Underground." This was to attempt to reassure Jareth who was now looking him over carefully. Lowering to one knee, Deverell continued, "I have no doubt you will find me able, I only pray that you will deem me worthy, your grace." That said he bowed his head to the king.

"Come, join us for tea," Jareth told the fey. "Ladies, I expect that you will make arrangements for this guest as well. You are dismissed."

"You accept my assistance?"

Jareth closed in on Deverell. "I trust no one," he said coldly, "of course of those I doubt, I doubt the Cleric least. You come at his command, I will not refuse his gift."

"At your service, my grace."

Sarah poured him a cup of tea, smiling at him as she inquired, "Cream or Sugar?" He held his hand up to indicate 'No, thank you,' and returned her smile. Deverell was a rather striking fey. Long blonde hair gathered by a band at the back of his neck, warm brown eyes that were very expressive, all risen six feet from the ground by a broad body for which his tights and clinging shirt left little to be imagined.

Jareth rose his eyebrows at Sarah's examination of the newcomer. "You will stay in the barn with Gribbin until we can ready a room for you. Tonight you will dine with the staff, tomorrow I will meet with you to discuss how I can best utilize your being here."

"Absolutely," he agreed. Then turning his attentions to the mortal, "I'm sorry," he apologized, "I do not recall that we were formally introduced. My name is Deverell."

"Sarah," she said accepting his hand.

"Sarah, what an uncommon name?"

"Not really, it's very common…where I come from."

"You? You are the mortal, the one who will rebuild the Underground?" He addressed the king, "This is the reason I've come to free your time? Alas, I should rethink my feelings on being king, your majesty. I see now that the benefits greatly outweigh the burdens."

Sarah blushed. "Yes, well you're not a king and you certainly shall not become one within my kingdom," Jareth pointed out. "Now then, can you elaborate on your talents as well as you can your envy?"

"Quite," Deverell countered. "In my kingdom, I maintain the daily business on behalf of the Triumvirate. I keep the records, serve as liaison to both the high counsel and the neighboring kingdoms, arrange trades, oversee new constructions…"

Jareth interrupted his laundry list of good deeds, "Can you fight?"

"Your majesty?"

"Can you fight? It is a greatly uncommon event for a mortal to reside in the Underground. I have my reasons to believe that her stay may not be thoroughly peaceful." It was Tiberon who crossed his mind.

"I'm handy with a saber, but I have never fought in battle, merely in sport."

"Then you will train. Until you can defend this kingdom, you are of little use to me." The bells for dinner sounded. "Deverell, allow me to show you to the main dining hall. Sarah, you and I will take our supper in my office."

"Why?" she questioned defiantly.

Deverell looked at the mortal in awe of her insolence. Clearing his throat, Jareth reiterated, "We will take our supper in my office." He extend his elbow.

Sarah slid her hand through his arm obediently, "Yes your grace."

The Goblin King opened the door to his office and extended his free arm to Sarah expecting her to walk through the threshold; however the mortal stood in the doorway, jaws parted, eyes wide. It was a beautiful room. On one wall a fireplace and a sitting area done in all burgundy, consisting of two arm chairs and a chesterfield sofa around a mahogany coffee table, all complimented by Moroccan accessories. One whole wall was a built in bookcase with a ladder which slid along rails allowing you to reach to the top of the impressive display. The king's desk matched the rest of the wood in the room, behind him a huge credenza and what Sarah assumed was a window hidden behind two drawn, wine colored, velvet curtains. Jareth smiled at her child like innocence. "Go on in," he told her softly.

Sarah released his arm and entered the room, turning to see the wall that had eluded her from the doorway. There were two large oil paintings. It crossed her mind to ask Jareth who the male fey in the paintings were, but before she could ask, he was popping the cork to one of the champagne bottles which had been placed in a silver bucket in the corner of the room. Like lightning he downed two flutes before opening the second bottle and offering Sarah a glass, "I think it's best if we see to it that you don't drink from the enchanted bottle. Otherwise we might just begin old problems all over again."

"Fine by me," Sarah replied and the two clinked glass. Sarah hadn't much cared for champagne in all the times she'd had it at weddings and cast parties, but this was sweet, the flavor different than any other she'd known. "Mmm," she said finishing the glass.

Elegantly lined eyes rose when she did this before a gloved hand refilled her flute. Quietly, Arulan entered, leaving behind two dinner trays before excusing herself with no more than a curtsy. "It would appear as though dinner were served." To test his magic, Jareth made a graceful sweeping motion of his arm and the trays were set before the two arm chairs, a roaring fire accompanying the meal. "Allow me," he extended his arm to Sarah and this time when she fed her arm through, his glove clasped down on top of her fingers. She couldn't resist looking at him from the corner of her eye. The king was returning to the fey she'd known in their journey and it suited him well. When she noticed him looking back, Sarah turned down her eyes and tilted her head away. Jareth led her to her seat and unveiled her tray. Beneath the silver cover was a generous helping of prime rib, covered in a creamy horseradish sauce, snow peas and mashed potatoes. "Look," Jareth chuckled, the champagne obviously effecting him by now, "something I didn't have to kill. What a relief?" He assumed his seat beside her and they began to eat their meal.

Suddenly self conscious of every move she made, Sarah ate in delicately cut bite sized pieces and sipped at her champagne like a hummingbird gathering nectar. "Everything tastes delicious," she said politely.

"I'm glad it's to your liking," the king responded. Wagging a finger the champagne bucket came to set on the small end table between. This disappointed Sarah because it obstructed her peripheral view of the king. "Your glass is nearly empty, allow me." Jareth levitated the glass into his hand and poured the golden liquid to the brim. Refreshing his own glass, he held the flute high, waited for Sarah to reciprocate and toasted, "To the beginning of a beautiful friendship." Both drank deeply from their glass.

When they'd both eaten all they could, the king snapped his fingers sending the trays away to the kitchen. "Oh," he called out, spinning on the pointed toe of one of his boots, "this is divine. Sarah," he said crouching down before her, "wish for something."

The mortal's lips parted and she waited for words to fall, but they refused come. For the first time in as long as she could remember, there was nothing to wish for. "I…I…" she stuttered.

"Yes, you wish…"

"I don't know what to wish for."

"Wish for anything, absolutely anything."

"You don't understand," she said, her lips searching for the rim of her flute. "I don't want anything."

"From me is it? You don't want anything from me?" He stood and walked away from her, hurt and angry.

"No." Smoothing some wrinkles from her skirt she tried to avoid his glare, "There is nothing I need which you have not provided me and," alcohol had a way of bringing truth to the surface, "there is nothing I want that could make me any happier, at least not right now." She'd added that last bit on in an effort to distract the king from her admission of satisfaction with him.

For a moment he kept his gaze on her. Not a raised eyebrow or the turn of a lip to indicate that he had even heard her reply. A wave of his hand and a perfectly round crystal perched upon his fingertips. Tossing it to her, he slurred, "Take a look in that and I'm sure you'll see something you want."

Still fairly dexterous, despite the amount of alcohol she had consumed, Sarah caught the orb, not daring to look into to it, for fear of what she'd see. Instead she rolled it over the back of her hand, twirling it this way and that as if it were a piece of her hair she'd decided to twist out of frustration.

"Who taught you that?"

"No one. Guess I kind of picked it up on my own."

Not willing to be out done, Jareth produced four more crystals. Three spun in the palm of his hand while one rode on top. "Bet you can't do this," he challenged. Jareth produced three more crystals and blew them across the room to his mortal.

Sarah caught the crystals, balanced three in her palm, topping those off with the one she'd already been manipulating and tried to get them to spin. Though she put forth an admirable effort, her palm was much smaller than the king's and her fingers could not span the bottom of the crystal pyramid. The orbs went bouncing to the ground tinkling as they did so. Jareth snorted. On her knees, Sarah crawled after the wayward orbs. The champagne had rendered her unable to stand and she began to wonder how Jareth, who had completely polished off his bottle and was now on his second glass from hers, was still able to stand let alone work those crystals of his.

One of the orbs to escape Sarah's palm had rolled across the room beneath one of the oil paintings. Curiosity controlled her when she noticed the glint of a golden plate on the frame. Seems they had both been labeled, upon closer inspection. Sarah read the gold plates below the paintings and asked Jareth, "Who are they?"

"Darien is my grandfather. His father, Oberon, was the first true king of the Underground. He had those paintings done and hung in this room, where they have remained ever since. Corwyn was Darien's brother." Jareth left it at that.

"But Corwyn was older than Darien, according to these plates." Sarah ran a finger across Corwyn's name plate and a quick flash of a male fey, she assumed was Darien's father, appeared before her eyes. Inside she felt a strong love and a sharp pain. Her breath hitched in her throat. "Why wasn't he king?"

"I never said he wasn't king." Jareth's eyes narrowed and he looked at her intently, noticing her look of concentration.

"He was king, but not for very long. There was a great tragedy and that was when," Sarah pulled her hand away from the plate and gasped, "Darien took over."

"Sarah?"

With a sadness that she could not imagine her eyes fell on Jareth, "That poor man, he lost his first born son."

Immediately the king hoisted up the bottle of champagne to ensure that he had been serving her from the correct one. "Sarah," he closed in on her, "how do you know these things?"

"It started before I left Aboveground, started with a watch. When I held it I saw the man who bought it," she half lied attempting to keep Jareth from knowing what Christian had done to her. "Then when I got here it happened with Hoggle, and with April and again when I was in your bed." 'Oops,' her mind said as the last location slipped out.

At first it escaped him, what she had just said, "You've got sight."

"Twenty, twenty, thank you," she said trying to be coy.

"No, I mean you're a seer. That's uncommon, even here."

"It's painful," she said raising her hand to her temple.

Jareth's soggy brain started to string her words together, "So that's how you knew about April." Sarah nodded. The king looked at her a devilish grin beginning to manipulate his lips, "And what did you see in my bed?"

Nerves drove her to refill her glass with the last of what was left of the champagne. She wet her throat with a sip of the liquid, it had suddenly gone very dry. "You snore," she said the last of her quick wit leaving her as she set about to find the other crystals that had toppled away.

On all fours, Sarah peered beneath the couch. Jareth looked on, pleased at the way the thin fabric of her dress hugged her backside. He could tell the mortal was growing more comfortable with the ways of the Underground, for no panty line disrupted the smooth flow of the fabric. When she resurfaced, Sarah had recovered two more of the kings crystals. Rotating them between her two palms, Sarah began to laugh.

"What is it?" Jareth asked.

"I was just wondering about something."

"Yes," he cocked an eyebrow.

"I was just wondering what Arulan would say if she caught me playing with your balls." Again, she erupted with hysterical laughter.

The double meaning of her query did not escape the king, "She would most probably be thrilled."

Sarah tossed the crystals back to him and he made them each promptly disappear. "Oh, please, spare me," she said struggling to her feet. "I don't want to hear about your sexual exploits." Jareth caught her in his arms as she stumbled back. For a minute she thought she saw something in the enlarged pupil of his left eye, but she dismissed it as being the result of too much champagne. Her eyes narrowed on him, "How many woman have you been with anyway?"

"A few," he began.

"That's a perfectly ambiguous answer now isn't it," Sarah huffed.

"Hundred," Jareth finished.

"A few hundred," she repeated, shock filled her tone.

"This month," he tried to hold back a laugh, but failed when he saw the look on the mortal's face. Tiny hands swatted at his chest when she realized he was teasing. "Does that some how seem surprising to you?"

"I guess not, if I think about it, if my brain weren't so soaked in alcohol that I could do the math. 365 days a year for about 200 years, times five or six woman at once."

Jareth laughed deeply, "You give me too much credit. My exploits are far from nightly and I have never taken more than one woman to my bed at a time." Unconsciously he'd begun running one hand along her spine, "Is there something about that scenario you find intriguing?"

"No," she said nervously. "I just assumed, you being king and all, you would be prone to the occasional indulgence."

"Even before I was king, I did not need a harem of woman to satisfy me. As I've grown older, I've come to learn that I only need one."

"Oh," Sarah managed only the one syllable before he pulled her close and occupied her lips. Her mind swam. 'Only one woman,' she thought. 'Arulan. The woman who waited on his every need. Probably the woman whose experiences she had shared in Jareth's bed. But then why would he jeopardize his relationship to succumb to the physical attraction they admitted for one another and satisfy her desire for him, merely because she was visiting the Underground? 'To hell with it,' Sarah decided when she felt Jareth's tongue probe her mouth, find her tongue and glide over it. She responded with a fervor of her own. Blonde strands filled her fingertips as her hands left his shoulders, rose along the side of his neck and settled under his jaw where she could feel his muscles propelling his mouth to massage her own. 'A few hundred woman,' she thought. The number no longer surprised her.

Still able to taste the champagne that lingered on her lips, Jareth felt even more drunk as he kissed her. It wasn't until he felt another piece of his soul slipping away that he realized his lowered inhibitions were allowing him to kiss her with love in his heart. A bit too late, he broke the kiss. "It's late. You should go to bed."

"I'm not a child, Jareth, I can stay up passed midnight."

"You're going to have one hell of a headache in the morning, trust me, you'll be thankful I forced you to get the extra rest."

Sarah let her head fall against his shoulder, "Did you make them all beg for you? All your hundreds of conquests?"

Scooping her up he transported them to his chambers. Tossing back the duvet, he lay her on the bed, "Goodnight Sarah."

"Jareth," she reached for his hand.

Sitting beside her he smoothed over her long black hair with his glove, "Yes."

"Be with me." Doe eyes looked up at him.

"Not tonight." Sarah's face washed over with hurt, "It would be considered less than honorable for me to take advantage of your current condition."

She propped up on her elbows, "What condition?" she demanded. "It's not like I'm tied to your bed posts, unable to escape, although, it's something to think about. I know what I want Jareth and I want you."

"Something to think about indeed," he smiled down at her. "In fact, why don't you close those foggy green eyes of yours and think about it. In fifteen minutes, if you decide you still," he cleared his throat, "want me, I will oblige."

"Sucker," Sarah told him as she closed her eyes and lay her head back on his pillow.

It was less than five minutes later that her chest settled into a steady rise and fall, the sounds of sleep reverberating in her windpipe. Jareth tucked the covers around her, "Alcohol," he said, "ironic that it should so increase one's desire when it so dramatically decreases one's ability."


	21. Chapter 21

**CHAPTER TWENTY ONE - SEEING IS BELIEVING**

Sometime after one, there was a gentle rapping on the king's office door. "Come in," he said graciously from inside the room, not bothering to get up from his desk. Arulan entered first, Sarah staggered in behind her. She wore a fresh dress, green, like her cheeks, and her hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail. Her eyes avoided everything but the floor. "Thank you, Arulan," Jareth managed before the elf was gone once more. "Sarah, have you eaten."

"I don't even want to see food for at least a week," she exaggerated. The king chuckled, "Arulan said you wanted to see me as soon as I was awake."

"Yes, well, why not have a seat and you can let me know when that happens." Jareth came out from behind his desk and joined his guest in the sitting area before the fireplace.

"Why aren't you miserable right now?" Sarah asked finally looking at him, his clear white eyes, his fresh face. 'Bastard,' she thought. "You drank more than I did last night? How are you even standing?"

The Goblin King smiled disarmingly, "I'm actually sitting."

"Either way."

"I'm afraid my magic gives me a certain elevated metabolism which means I can oxidize the liquor a far sight quicker than you, or so it appears."

"Yeah well, what happened to that part of your soul I'm supposed to have. Doesn't that include your metabolism?"

"No, I'm sorry," he said still smiling. "I'm afraid that is a benefit of my magic only." A sweep of his hand and he held a glass of tomato juice. "Try this," Jareth suggested as he offered her the glass.

"What is it? Is it a Bloody Mary? Because if it is, I can assure you based on my college experience, that old hair of the dog remedy doesn't work."

"Bloody Mary? Hair of the dog?"

Genuine confusion ruled his face, "Never mind. What's in here?"

"Tomato juice," he told her. After making a pass over the rim with his hand, he added, "With a bit of magic in it."

Sarah wasn't particularly fond of tomato juice but she drank the vile fluid down anyway. No sooner did it hit her empty stomach had she begun to feel better. The bags beneath her eyes lightened and the seething pain which seemed to clench her temple began to relax. With most of her discomfort out of the way, Sarah was now quite aware of just how ragged she must appear to the king who was dressed in his usual royal finery. She made a feeble attempt to tighten her ponytail.

"Feeling better?" the king asked when he saw the green fading from her cheeks.

"I am," Sarah admitted.

"Good." Jareth stood and began pacing back and forth in front of her. "Sarah, I...I don't know if you recall some of the things we discussed last night." The woman slunk down in the sofa. "I don't mean to bring up anything that might be unpleasant, but..."

'Nothing here to hide under,' she thought as she looked around the room. 'No fire in the fireplace, maybe while his back was turned...'

"I hope you don't mind me asking."

His words forced Sarah to refocus her attention, "Huh?"

"Have you heard a word I've said?"

"We both drank a lot last night and I don't think we should put much value in any of it. If I've offended you, I apologize and if I've made a fool of myself, I would appreciate your not mentioning it."

"And if I believe you had a vision concerning my great grandfather, my grandfather and my great uncle, what would you have me do about that?" Jareth's tone hinted displeasure at her selfishness.

The paintings! Immediately she looked at the likeness of the two men, her vision refreshed by the sight of them. "I suppose you're angry with me."

"No, not at all. It's only that I think it best if no one else knew about your abilities." Sarah waited for him to go on, "Sight is an uncommon ability in this world. We haven't had a seer in this kingdom," he thought back to the diary entries he'd read over the other day, "in a very long time."

"A seer?"

"Someone who can sense aura, uncover the past, even at times, see the future. Their words are taken as law in this realm. They go unquestioned. There are some here that would abuse your...talents."

"That's what you call it."

"It is a very rare and desirable gift." Was he still talking about her magic?

"Yeah, well it hurts like hell while your at it. Not to mention, did you ever think that sometimes I get to see things I don't want to see?"

"Such as?" he asked with concern as he reclaimed his seat beside her.

'Christian, with another woman,' Sarah thought. 'You, with another woman. Is that enough?' "Nothing, Jareth. Are we through?"

"No, I'm sorry, but we're not. I need to know everything you saw last night." The king knew that there was more to the mortal's hesitation than it might appear, but it wasn't his way to encourage others to confide in him. Still he was curious, Sarah had seen something of his grandfather's past and if any of it could help solve the age old mystery of his great uncle's murder, he had to know.

"I barely remember being in this room. What makes you think I remember that vision?" She felt herself becoming the subject of his doubtful stare. "I remember thinking Corwyn was older and being confused as to why he wasn't king." Her head clenched with pain once more causing her to lean her elbows on her knees. Jareth's hand went instinctively to her back, the other hand pulling the glass from her grip and setting it on the table.

"Sarah? Sarah, are you all right?"

Though she found comfort in the sound of the king's voice, she heard Hoggle's words override him. 'You're the one in control Sarah. Nothing you see can hurt you.'

"He knows...knows he shouldn't have favorites, not when it comes to his own children, but the baby tends to want its mother more, he reasoned. It was his job to groom his son to become king. He was the first, he would set the precedent. And so Corwyn got most of his attention and secretly, most of his love. The paintings were done on his son's 75th birthdays marking their becoming men. He would sit, at that desk, admiring Corwyn, forming a relationship with Darien that he could never have face to face, envisioning the son he wanted rather than the one he had." Sarah's head rose slowly, her eyes filled with tears, "Oberon thought it would be him they would murder. What no one knew was that he prayed for it. Prayed that it would spare his children and take him instead. Gwendolyn would be heart broken without her husband and she'd hold tight to her baby while their eldest son slipped seamlessly into the throne. Maybe if Darien was preoccupied with his mother, he'd straighten up his life, give up the women and the drinking." Wiping at her eyes, she continued, "No king should have to bury his son. It was grey the day they laid him to rest. Oberon was furious, mad at the sky for refusing to chase away clouds that his own sorrow had put there in the first place. Gwendolyn never cried and Oberon doubted her for that. They had returned to the castle for their son's burial ceremony, those last hours before returning home, he spent here. In his mind he had no children, a wife who couldn't comfort him and his grief had forced him to grow old. It was almost a relief when Darien took the throne. Oberon could take his wife back to their home, where they would be free of Darien's sweet words and fraudulent grief, leave him to his cold stone castle, which served only as a living memorial to Corwyn, who should have been king for another hundred years or more." Sarah looked into Jareth's mismatched eyes, for a minute she saw her own reflection before the tears obscured her view entirely. This was what Jareth had to grow up in the shadow of, the legacy he was left. A trembling hand reached out for the medallion which he wore almost as constantly as his gloves. "This was Oberon's, given to him by his father. He gave it to Corwyn."

"My grandfather took it from him. It would have been considered an insult to bury it with my great uncle."

"Oberon's glad the necklace made it into your hands." Sarah drew back her hand, "But he hasn't returned to the castle, not since..."

"The funeral," Jareth finished her sentence. "I've been to see him a couple of times."

"He wishes you'd come more often."

Jareth didn't know how to reply. After an uncomfortable amount of silence had passed, he asked, "Would you like to return to my chamber so that you have time to ready yourself for dinner.

Sarah looked down at herself, her hair limp in the knot at the back of her head, her eyes swollen from crying. "I would like to clean myself up some," she admitted, "but only if you've heard everything you need to hear."

"And then some." Jareth stood, offering a hand to his mortal as he rose. When Sarah placed her tiny hand in his, his thumb rolled gently over her knuckles as he guided her toward the door. Once there he gave a gentle tug to a long braided cord which summoned Arulan to his office. "If you would be so kind as to take Sarah back to her room and see to it that she has something more formal for this evening."

"That's really not necessary," Sarah offered.

"Something formal Arulan," the king let go of Sarah's hand, using his index finger to catch her chin, raising her eyes to meet his own. "It pleases me to do these things for you. You are a guest here, the dinner is being held in your honor, you should have something formal."

"Thank you," she smiled, before Arulan, also smiling, turned her to leave.

Jareth returned to his desk, opened his journal and began scrawling down the date for today's entry. Before he could touch quill to paper, there was more knocking on his door. He angrily replaced the quill in the ink well. Only Sarah's presence had been requested, this was just an interruption. "Come in," he grumbled.

Deverell entered, stood before the king and went to one knee, "Your grace, please pardon my coming unannounced."

"What is it that you need?"

"Your grace mentioned earlier that I would require training before I could be of any assistance. It's been half the day now and I haven't been asked to learn a thing."

The king came from behind his desk, "Rise." He began a deliberate circle around the fey, "It was my intention to give you this day for familiarizing yourself with your new surroundings, but if you are so intent upon training I suppose I could arrange for Dalkeil to begin after tonight's dinner. Is that your desire?"

"Indeed, your grace. Might I ask what Sir Dalkeil will train me regarding?"

Chuckling at him, Jareth replied, "Dalkeil is a master in several forms of combat. While in my employ he has trained armies, I'm sure he'll find working with you to be little, if any, challenge. Trust me when I tell you, you stand to learn much from him."

Deverell's face hung in visible disappointment, "I see."

"You had anticipated some other arrangement?" the king asked.

"Well, your grace, I must say, I was looking forward to you training me. I want to be able to handle any situation the same way you would."

"You'll find that I lack the patience to teach others, Deverell." Jareth's tone became authoritative, "In fact, you would be surprised by just how many areas there are in which my patience grows thin."

"Yes your grace."

Jareth took a seat in the chair closest to the fireplace. "Come and sit with me a moment, boy." Deverell took his place on the couch, facing the king. "I get the impression that you are somehow desperate to impress me. Please do not think me unkind when I tell you this, but I've come to think of myself as a bit of an original. I have heard it said that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery; however, I have little appreciation for attempts at duplication. 'Tis a far better service we do to be ourselves. Besides, no one likes a kiss ass." Jareth leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms before him, locking his fingers. "Lastly, you overestimate how much your presence here is required. I'm not so blind that I do not know precisely why it is the Cleric sent you, but the truth remains that if anything so heavy duty that it requires you to act as king should occur during my distraction with the mortal, there would be no question where my loyalties would lie. Most days, you will have little more to do than control the unruly goblins in the city surrounding the castle and weed through my mail for items which must receive my attention, handling the more menial tasks, thus freeing my time. I'm having you trained in combat only because the mortal makes this castle a target and, if necessary, I expect that you will give your life to protect her."

After some silence, Deverell swallowed hard. "Your majesty?"

"The girl is regenerating this kingdom, nothing can happen to her while she is here. Not to mention she is a mortal, which by definition makes her far more susceptible to injury and the fatal results thereof. You are expected to defend her with your life. If this is a condition which you do not feel you can accept, you may leave now."

The young fey looked at the king. His eyes had spoken only seriousness when he propositioned Deverell. "Do you truly believe that it would come to that?"

"What I believe is irrelevant. The only thing that matters is that Sarah is safe," he quickly added, "and this kingdom is restored."

"I agreed when the Cleric chose me that I would serve you in any way you asked. If this is what you ask of me your grace, then this is the service I will provide." The gravity in his eyes as he spoke matched Jareth's.

"You will hear it said of me that I am not one to dole out compliments," the index fingers of his hands templed. "While what they say is the truth, I will admit this to you. You are a man of honorable intention. I can see that. While you allow yourself to show fear, you do not run from it. You have a healthy respect for that which you think you cannot handle. Quick wit is your greatest weapon. A well hidden retort can alleviate one's frustration and if disguised in a curtain of well spoken grammar, your foe leaves none the more offended and nonetheless aware that you have trumped him. Likewise in battle, think in the instant. Just now, when I said you would be expected to give your life if necessary, your initial reaction was most likely a concurrent one. Yet you stopped and thought and, in doing so, you allowed yourself to doubt, you allowed yourself to fear. Do not be afraid to be the fey that you are capable of being."

"Yes your majesty."

"We are done. Allow me to show you to the door. There is much I need to finish before tonight's dinner. You are expected to dress formally, if you do not have formal attire, my seamstress can fit you with something." Jareth rose and began to lead Deverell from the room.

"That will not be necessary your grace, I was told in advance of your pension for formalities and packed accordingly." Deverell gave him a small bow before turning to leave.

Jareth swung the door open with his magic, "Very well."

"Your grace, may I speak freely a moment?" Without answering, Jareth nodded his head and gave a quick upward jerk of his eyebrows as if to say with curiosity, 'You may.' "It would normally not occur to me to tell a king, or any high fey, they were incorrect in what they did or spoke, but with all do respect, your grace, tonight I have witnessed a grievous error on your part."

"Is that so?" The king's stance became defensive as he locked cold eyes on the fey who stood before him.

"Indeed. Not but a few minutes ago you stood where you stand now and said to me that you lacked the patience to teach others. Yet, as I leave you now, you have given me a lesson I would be foolish to ignore and I am ill equipped to leave you little more than my gratitude." He bowed once more, "Good day, your grace."

Jareth choked back a rather parental emotion that made him feel full and empty at the same time. If he didn't know humans better, he'd have thought that he'd captured a part of Sarah's soul in their many times together.

Again he resumed his position at the desk, cleared his throat and took quill in hand. From the corner of his eye he watched the door, waiting for the knock, almost daring someone to interrupt him once more. Though no one came, the mood to create an entry had passed. Instead, the king sat back in his chair. One leg kicked at the ground sending his chair spinning in a circle. The motion made his head swim, "How you turn my world you precious thing." Those were words he had spoken before. He had seen truth in them then, but if it were possible, he saw gospel in them now.

Not ten days ago, he gathered his pathetic goblin army and sent them to infiltrate the sectors of the Underground. If Jareth couldn't play with magic, he would play with power. Without hesitation or regret he would bring his kingdom shaking to its knees. What was left? The lands were ruined the subjects already destitute. Why not have some fun? Why not make the Underground as lost, lonely and unbearable as was its king?

Now, there he sat, spinning like a top, giddy as a school boy. Having just ordered a pretty new dress for his mortal and taken the brash, though inexperienced, Deverell under his wing. Her being around had changed him. Sarah had a way of softening his heart, though she was not without the ability to harden other organs. The king digressed. Still there was truth to it. Seeing the Underground alive made him want it alive, made him put aside his petty vengeance for a greater good that seemed to perpetually escape his narrow conceptual grasp. Seeing Sarah made him want her to be with him always, but this was a decision he could not make, which required feelings he would not admit. "Sarah Williams, why do I allow you to have this power over me when you won't grant me the same in return?" The chair slowed it's orbital motion as the king focused on the ceiling.

'If only I had seen one time when love worked out,' Jareth thought. But what had he seen in all his years? Marriages of convenience, marriage for stature, political gain and it was all perfectly acceptable. Among the commoners, few treated their marriages with the respect that they had pledged on their wedding days. Most had affairs outside the constraints of their vows, without so much as the batting of an eyelash. His world was prolific with courtesans and although he had been born and raised among the mentality, it angered him. That was the reason he refused to train the women that were brought to him. Even the idea that he had taken so many women to his bed revolted him. Males tended to have their needs, and Jareth after all, was just a fey. Besides, he hadn't made any of them false promises. He merely requested their silence, thought of his mortal, went about the act with a certain amount of automation and then back to his business until the desire rose again. He gave himself to none of them in soul or in spirit. They satisfied his need and he gave them the status boost they quested for. Nausea overcame him and he wondered if he could look at his prowess the same now that he had been with Sarah and if he could continue the charade when she was gone.

In fact, Sarah brought many things into question for him. These two things most prevalently; however, there were volumes more. He questioned the duties of the king, the way he was expected to treat her, the way he was expected to treat his subjects. What if a child were wished away while she were here? She had not at all appreciated what transpired with Toby, what would she think of him when he tormented yet another young and careless someone and the child in their care? He worried about being ostentatious and condescending, worried about his dress and his manner. Jareth felt himself grow rigid and forget to breathe. "This is the most ridiculous I have ever behaved," the king growled as he slammed his fists onto the desk top, snapping the quill in two. "Damn," he cussed as he watched the feather gliding toward the stone floor. The tip made a clinking sound as it landed in his waste bin.

He tried to force himself to remember that her mortal magic allowed her to delve into his deepest secrets as easily as she had invaded the secrets of the Labyrinth. What else would she uncloak in her remaining weeks with him? All these efforts he exerted to keep her at arm's length's, only to be undone by magic as strong as his own, magic he could not counter. The seer was right all those years ago, this woman would be his undoing.

His mind could have written a book about the way he felt for her, the love, the hatred, the passion generated by both and the friction created between them. Yet, when the means were in his hands, he couldn't scrawl a word. She welled a contradiction in him, empowered and yet emasculated, freedom with entrapment, glory dimmed by shame. Yes, contradiction, that one word, described them apart, described them together. What had the Triumvirate done allowing them this taste of honey? And the Cleric, the ever pushy Cleric, who'd sent this boy to do his will, thinking that Jareth would just sign over his kingdom to Deverell so that he could focus his full energy upon the mortal. Arulan was just as bad, purporting to know his heart's desires, never failing to remind him just how well she knew the side of him that almost no one was permitted to see. "Not enough men in this castle," Jareth grunted. "Perhaps Deverell will prove to be a happy edition to our motley little crew."

Behind him, he opened the curtains, allowing what was left of this day's sun to come streaming through the glass and cast its rays upon the credenza, upon his chair, over his desk, over himself. What an amazing warmth it possessed! How had this escaped him for so long? He sat there, enveloped by the golden rays, a smile pulling up on the corners of his mouth, relaxed, content, happy.

"If you'd stop fidgeting for a second, then maybe I could get this fastened and you'd be more comfortable," Arulan said to Sarah.

"I can't help it, I'm stepping on the hem," she replied.

"Well bustle the sides in your hands until I get this hooked." From behind Sarah, the elf looked into the full length mirror to witness a look of utter confusion. "Like this," she grabbed the fabric and bunched it into her hands until she could see the middle of Sarah's calf, held it there a moment and released it.

Sarah repeated what she had seen Arulan do, shifting all of her weight to one side as she did so. "Arulan, I can barely breath," she practically whined.

"Stand…up…straight," Sarah complied. There was a faint scraping of metal against metal and then a long zipping sound. "Ah, there we have it. Let go of the hem."

Continuing to do as she'd been told, Sarah allowed the fabric to fall from her grip toward the floor. Though she hated to admit it, she looked stunning. The gown which had been made for her was cut from a heavy and yet incredibly satiny deep purple fabric. The straps were thin and looked embroidered, the bodice tight with an empire waist where the embroidery reappeared, split in the center forming a petticoat in the outermost layer that revealed several layers below which covered her to the ankle. The hem line in the back pooled behind her in a gathered train. Sarah made a half turn in order to see the back of the dress in the mirror. "I'm going to break my neck going down the stairs."

"Nonsense," Arulan told her, "just bustle the sides like we did before only not so high, just a hair above your ankle." She demonstrated. "Look at you. You're an absolute vision, as well you should be after all the work we've done to get you dressed and ready." Arulan had taken each individual ringlet in Sarah's thick mane and pinned it up onto the top of her head, until she had created an elegant look of gently cascading curls that seemed to gather in the back without any visible accessory whatsoever. A few tendrils hung long in the back and framing her face to accentuate. Then she had done the mortal's make up, heavy enough to make her face look flawless, but light enough that she appeared very natural, slightly flushed, with a touch of color to lids, lips and cheeks. Lastly, she had dusted the mortal's chest, shoulders and back with a faint glitter which gave her an amazing glow.

"We? I haven't done anything but stand here. Speaking of which, will I attend dinner barefoot?" she asked the servant while lifting the hem and wiggling her toes.

"Goodness, I almost forgot." Arulan pulled a box from underneath the bag which had held the dress. Inside was a pair of black high heels, with a narrow pointed toe and two long black cords off the heel.

"Ballet slippers!?"

"No Sarah, not ballet slippers. Slide your toe in," Arulan instructed, kneeling before her and holding the shoe in place. Once Sarah had stepped into the toe, the elf's hands quickly worked the cords in a criss-cross pattern up her ankle and then tied off the cords. They were , perhaps a bit racy for wearing to dinner with the king and Hoggle, but the dress would cover them so what was the harm. After repeating the process with Sarah's other foot, Arulan stood back, looked over the mortal and thought, 'I can see why Jareth is so taken by this one.' "How's it feel dear? Are you comfortable?"

"I think so," Sarah wobbled around on the shoes for a moment until she got her footing. "Okay, I've got it now," she announced when she had finally managed to adapt into a fluid glide. Shortly thereafter, while Sarah was still practicing her walking, there came a knock at the door. "I'll get it," the mortal offered.

Arulan broke into a sprint in order to beat her to the door. "You most certainly will not," she admonished. "Go and stand over there." Her hands swatted Sarah in the direction of the fireplace before she adjusted her dress, cleared her throat and opened the door. With a subtle curtsy she addressed, "Your majesty."

"No, I'm sorry, it is not." It was Deverell at the door.

"Beg pardon, sir. What can I do for you?" Arulan asked.

"I've come to see the lady Sarah to dinner." Sarah stepped toward him and Deverell looked over her appreciatively.

The elf interrupted, "I'm afraid you may not." She was stern when she spoke, "His majesty, the king, said he would come for the mortal. I cannot allow anyone to escort her but him."

"Surely he would entrust his second in command," Deverell replied confused.

"Not even his own shadow," Arulan stood firm.

All this formality struck Sarah as ridiculous and wholly unnecessary, "Arulan, I don't mind if Deverell escorts me to the dining room."

"But I do," the voice came from behind the fey as he stood in the doorway. "Deverell," the king pronounced his name slowly, "might I have a word with you," he glanced at Arulan, "in private?" Arulan softly closed the door. Jareth paced back and forth before the fey, "Who told you to come and gather the mortal for dinner?"

"No one."

"You took it upon yourself?"

"If I am to defend her with my life, I thought I should get to know about her. Surely you can see that it would be difficult to lay down one's blood for someone they didn't care for."

"You have a direct order from the king, you need nothing more. I'm certain the Cleric gave you a thorough understanding of monarchy before you came here."

"Aye," Deverell conceded.

"You are here to do as I say. Unless you, or anyone else in this castle, receives a direct order from me you are not to approach the mortal, barring, of course, the special permission you have to defend her should she be in peril. Do you understand?" Jareth stopped short in front of Deverell before asking him to confirm comprehension.

"I did not mean to make it seem as if..."

"Do you understand?" the king asked once more.

"Yes, your majesty." He stood motionless before Jareth as it occurred to him that one moment's closeness with the king meant nothing overall, for when he felt crossed, he exerted his dominance freely.

"You may see yourself to the dining hall, the seat to the right of the head has been reserved for you."

"Yes, your majesty."

Taking a moment to allow his anger to subside, the king straightened his vest with a sharp tug and opened the door to his chamber. "Ladies," he greeted them with a graceful bow.

Arulan returned his gesture and then scampered from the room, a wicked grin on her lips. Sarah and Jareth looked at each other for a long moment. She looked positively stunning as she stared back at him, a stiff lower lip accentuating her glower. Beneath what Sarah tried to pass off as a look of castigation, she too participated in this exchange of appreciation. Jareth's tights were a deep plum, tucked into the top of his typical black boots. From beneath his black leather vest flounced a plum shirt. The silver medallion ever present. The gloves he wore perpetually were a soft leather, maybe suede, she couldn't tell for certain from where she was, but she could see they matched the deep hues of his shirt and pants. His blonde hair appeared almost white against the dark fabrics. Sarah felt her back stiffen and her shoulders square. 'I'm not,' she thought. 'Please tell me I'm not posing for him.' Despite what she may have wanted to hear, she was doing just that, forcing her body into a position that accentuated her elevated breasts and allowed the dress she wore to flow along her body in the most flattering way possible.

"You look lovely," Jareth finally mentioned, breaking the silence. Concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other, he made a vain attempt to appear undaunted.

When he was finally before her, Sarah cast her eyes on the toes of her shoes, his nearness making it difficult to hold his eye. She saw his hand rise up and unconsciously followed it, captivated by the fluid movement. 'Oh my,' she thought, 'they're velvet.' This close it was easy to tell what fabric his gloves were made of. Jareth cupped his hand and rotated his wrist. Instantly a choker materialized and draped over his fingers, the band constructed of the same type of elegant embroidery which made up the straps of her dress. From a loop at the center a miniaturized version of Jareth's amulet hung, made of silver, swaying left to right. Sarah was hypnotized by the light rocking allowing her mouth to fall open slightly. In question, she turned her eyes to Jareth.

"Allow me," he said, bringing forth his other hand to undo the clasp and fit the band around Sarah's neck. It was practically impossible to hook the clasp from in front of her, so Jareth leaned in, hoping that peaking over her shoulder he could work the fastening.

When his mouth came closer to her own, Sarah captured his lips, placing a long, appreciative kiss upon them. She felt Jareth return her affections, although not as deeply as she might have liked, his velvet gloves tightening around her throat, his thumbs stroking her jaw. "Thank you," Jareth said when Sarah had broken the kiss, "but I was just trying to do up your clasp." The king moved the two ends of the band, still pinched between his fingers. Sarah's face went red, but Jareth only smiled in the arrogant manor he always smiled, giving the mortal the impression that she had really given him an upper hand. "There we have it," he said triumphantly as he stood back to look at the medallion as it fell into the hollow of her throat.

A shaking hand reached up to touch it as Sarah turned toward the mirror, "It's beautiful. Who did it belong to?"

"What makes you think it belonged to anyone?"

"There's a faint energy. I felt it the minute you put it around my neck, but I can't see who she was."

Jareth's face grew solemn, "The energy you claim to feel may be some residual magic Sarah. The band has been enchanted so that it can change to match whatever you're wearing. I hardly think a black satin Celtic pattern would match riding pants and a blouse. You'll see as you try it on with other things."

"Amazing," she said numbly, still unable to take her eyes off the precious metal at her throat. The feeling of a woman's energy still hitting her more strongly than she would admit to the king.

"We should join our guests in the dining hall, if you're ready," he extended his arm to her.

After a moment, she fed her hand through his arm, resting her fingers just below his elbow and bringing up her other hand to meet them. Her fingers dared to roam a bit as she took notice of the gentle hills made by the firm muscle in his forearm. Jareth smiled. Making a magic pass with his free hand he covered her hands in black satin gloves that rose to her elbows. Sarah gasped and then returned his smile as she allowed him to lead her from the bed chamber.

At the top of the stairs, Sarah gathered her dress into her left hand, keeping her right hand wrapped around the kings arm and inhaled deeply before beginning to descend. 'Please don't let me fall,' she thought as she did her best to smile. As her foot left the last step for the safety of the stone floor, she let out the breath she'd been holding. Jareth guided her to the door of the dining hall which was opened by a male elf in a red jacket and black tights. Rather than entering himself, Jareth pulled Sarah from his arm and guided her through the doorway. Loudly, the elf in the red jacket announced, "Lady Sarah and his majesty, the king."

Everyone in attendance at the dinner table rose. Sarah smiled lightly, not sure exactly how she should behave. Jareth whispered into some of her fallen tendrils, "Take the seat to the left of the head." When she moved for the chair, the king came up behind her and pulled it away from the table, as she sat he pushed in her chair. Once Sarah was seated, the king took his spot at the head of the table. The guests took their seats once Jareth indicated they may do so with a subtle gesture of his right hand. Hoggle helped Drema into her seat. Sarah, seated at Hoggle's right, helped him to position himself once his wife was settled.

Jareth looked around the table, pleased that everyone he had invited had taken time to attend. There was Deverell to his right and beside him, Dalkeil. Then Turgomon, the king's public advisor and last along the right side of the long rectangular table, Atofina. Atofina was a fey known about the kingdom for training courtesans, but what few people remembered was that before the Underground had a king, it was she who was chosen to teach Gwendolyn how to carry herself like royalty. The woman was legendary, among the members of the high court who served the Triumvirate before they were able to fully organize themselves. Over the years she'd learned there was more to be gained from the ladies of the night, rather than the ladies of the court, which had disbanded. Most refused to believe Atofina was truly the age she was, making it seem as if she'd only ever been a madam, but Jareth knew more, knew what his family had always told him. Facing Atofina was Arulan, to her right Drema who was seated next to her husband. On Hoggle's other side, Sarah was placed at the left hand of the king.

"I welcome you all," Jareth announced. "Tonight we gather round this table to welcome the Lady Sarah," he gestured towards her. "There is much business we have to discuss, but before we talk business, I believe that my kitchen has prepared a satisfying meal that my wait staff is only too anxious to serve."

Five elves served the table, two on either side and one whose duties applied specifically to the king. Sarah recognized the elf who brought her plates as one of the females from the previous day when she had first arrived. Though she tried not to, her eye wondered casually toward Arulan's seat, curious as to why she would be invited to sit at the king's table when everyone else asked to attend was of some greater significance than servant. Course after course arrived beginning with a wonderful spinach quiche, a salad made from a mixture of wild greens and red cabbage, and a rich onion soup. Drema and Hoggle were practically full by the time the main course arrived. They shared the steamed squash and carrots, the potatoes au gratin and the pork medallions.

When the dishes were cleared and the glasses refilled, Jareth cleared his throat and rose his glass. Once more he thanked his guests for their attendance at the meal, but before he could complete his sentiment, Hoggle jumped up onto the seat of his chair and interrupted, "What's it you want from us?"

Drema chastised her overzealous husband, "Sit down Hoggle. You're making a fool of yourself."

Jareth lowered his glass, "No good woman. Hoggle speaks the truth. It would be a lie for me to say I have brought you all together for no other reason than to meet the mortal."

"Told ya," Hoggle snorted indignantly.

"As I said," the king raised an eyebrow at the dwarf, "there is another guest in this castle." He motioned toward the fey at his right, "May I introduce Deverell. He has been sent by the Cleric to assist me in running this kingdom while Sarah and I set about restoring these lands." Deverell stood and gave a slight bow. "Hoggle, I expect that you will give him whatever guidance he requires, what with you being an old pro at maintaining order here."

For a moment Hoggle sized him up, attempting to figure out if he was sincere. He had called him by the proper name, twice now. "Aye yer majesty," he conceded.

"And Dalkeil, the boy knows weaponry as a sportsman. I ask you to train him by means of the sword, the dagger and the hand."

"Aye your majesty," he replied with a tip of his head.

"What is it you expect me to do for the boy?" Atofina asked, a hint of a giggle in her voice.

"The boy does not need the type of services you can provide," the king replied knowingly. "The lady is in need of your assistance."

"Jareth, that's new, even for you."

"Sarah must be trained in the ways of behaving as a lady behaves. It is crucial that she draw as little attention to herself as possible."

Atofina laughed madly, "It's been quite awhile since I've done that kind of training."

"I trust it will return to you swiftly once you begin."

"Perhaps," she smiled as she finished the wine in her goblet.

"And I, your majesty," Turgomon offered, "am I to see to it that the lady is kept from the spotlight?"

"Precisely. It will be impossible to keep the girl a secret, why with her being forced to visit the sectors, but we should make every effort to minimize her exposure. Rumors will spread quickly and I expect that you will silence them as discreetly as possible."

"Do you truly think that best?" Deverell asked.

Jareth shot him a harsh look, "Do you have some better suggestion?"

"Well your grace, I would think the less you tried to hide the mortal, the less there would be to rumor about."

"The boy has a point," Turgomon acknowledged. "Were we to attempt to deny all that is rumored of the Legend we only open the door to guilt by omission. Where as if we were to make some spectacle of her, some public announcement of her arrival, what question will be left for them to ask?"

"What sort of spectacle have you in mind?" the king inquired, not at all pleased at having been overruled by his stewards.

"A masquerade, Jareth. Yours were always the most fun," Atofina suggested from the furthest length of the table.

Without trying to hide his displeasure the king sat and listened to the others as they too agreed a ball would be the most splendid way of introducing Sarah to the Underground. Turgomon pointed out that it would be the kind of social event that everyone would be able to partake in. Deverell made obvious that the occasion would be a festive one, putting the people in a pleasant mood to begin with while their costumes afforded them some amount of secrecy, thus avoiding their being intimidated by a mortal. None of their offerings moved him to agree until he felt Sarah's hand upon his arm, her voice low and sweet, "A ball, like the one we had last time?"

"Similar," he admitted.

"I would very much like to go to a ball."

"If that is what you wish milady, then it shall be a ball which introduces you to this kingdom." She nodded, a smile gracing her ruby lips. "A ball it shall be." Jareth stood, "Arulan I expect that you will assist Turgomon in whatever he needs to arrange for the festivity."

Arulan nodded. "When do you wish the ball to take place your majesty?"

He looked to Turgomon for an answer, "Week's end is always a good time for festivity."

"Week's end it shall be. Very well, the rest of you will begin training tonight." They stood to go, all of them but Sarah. "After," Jareth added, "you have been served desert. There's a divine crème Brûlée and a well aged brandy for washing it down. Please sit."

"Good, good. Balestra and lunge," Dalkeil instructed. Deverell stood motionless. "A flèche then?" When his student continued refusing to move, he added, "Have they never taught you the attacks boy?"

"No, as his majesty said, I learned the sword in sport."

"Even in sport a score gets kept, does it not?"

"They prize us on form and talent."

"I'll give you this much," the weapon's master told him, "your experience with form and method do not go unnoticed, but your fear of the attack is bound to leave you run through in the field. If you wish to serve the king, you must learn to fight." Dalkeil drew back on his heel and lunged at Deverell. Surprisingly, the pupil could block with relative efficiency. A series of quick parries and the more experienced swordsman managed to fake an attack sending the younger fey's sword sailing through the air. Dalkeil touched the covered end of his sword to Deverell's whites. "Defense will only take you so far."

"So I see," he coughed out as he stepped back, breaking the connection of Dalkeil's sword to his chest. He stepped toward his weapon, grabbing it by the handle, Deverell assumed a ready stance, "Teach me to do that."

"Derobement?"

"If that means you will show me how to disarm my opponent, then yes."

"'Tis a skill which most do not learn until much later in their training."

"I have little time to learn to defend this kingdom, we will work until sunrise if that is what it takes."

Dalkeil eyed his student, "Ambitious aren't you? I shall add that to the list of credits I might give you."

"Soon you shall add aggression as well."

"I'm not trying to offend you. It's just, well, I don't see the need for me to go through with all this. I did perfectly fine at dinner," Sarah objected as she and Atofina occupied the castle's sitting room.

"In fact, you did not do entirely poorly at dinner," she replied, "but there were some more obvious errors." She'd sprawled herself out along the chaise, seeming very comfortable in the castle.

Irritated by both her statement and her demeanor, Sarah stiffened her back and repeated, "Errors?"

Atofina shook her head, "Would you care for me to elaborate?"

"Yes, please." The reply was sickeningly sweet.

"To begin, you assisted the dwarf. You are a lady in the king's home. You will be served, waited on and catered to. You should never serve, wait on or cater to anyone else," with a wicked grin she added, "except the king."

"The dwarf, as you call him, is my friend."

"I don't care if he's your father." For a moment she watched Sarah's mouth hanging open. "Second, you called the king by his first name."

"As do you."

"I have known his majesty since he was a child, you on the other hand have not. You should, in public anyway, refer to him only as your highness, your majesty or your king."

"What about your grace?" Sarah asked. She'd heard many of the servants call Jareth, your grace.

"A term used by persons in service to the king. Tell me Sarah," Atofina leaned in on the mortal, eyeing her, "Are you in service to the king?" Feeling the blush run into her cheeks, she quickly answered no and asked that her advisor go on with the lesson. "Where was I? Oh yes, you've got to move more like a woman."

"Excuse me?" Sarah asked, her eyes wide.

"You should glide, every move you make should be fluid." Atofina stood and stepped around a bit. She held her head high as she did so, tilted back a hair. Her palms were parallel to the ground, all but her forefinger bent. "From first step to last," she paused at the other end of the chaise, her feet perpendicular, making a sweeping motion with her hands, "you should hold the attention of all those in attendance."

There was no sense in arguing. Atofina had held Sarah's attention the entire time she paraded around. The mortal had never seen anyone seem so effortless and thought that surely it would have been an attribute of the fey. "Human woman don't behave this way."

"And if it were I who was Aboveground that fact might concern me; however, it is you who is here, with a masquerade being held in your honor at week's end. I think you would be less disagreeable."

"Fine. I get it. Don't do anything for anyone unless it's Jar…I mean, his majesty who asks. Use his majesty for calling the king in public and step lightly."

"Walk for me."

"What?"

"You heard me. Walk from here to the mantle and back for me, lightly as you say."

Begrudgingly Sarah obliged. She did her best to mimic Atofina's steps, but her shoes still sounded loudly off the stone floor attempting to hold her palms as the fey had done was throwing her off balance causing her to wobble side to side. "Absurd."

The fey suppressed a giggle. "We've a lot of work to do. For tonight practice walking on the balls of your feet, don't touch your heels down. If you practice in bare feet, it'll be a cinch in shoes."

"What do you mean for tonight?"

"His majesty has asked that I work with you each evening in preparation for the ball."

"What's the big deal?" Sarah asked her without attempting to hide her irritation.

"The big deal," Atofina explained as she gathered her wrap, "is that whatever excursion you were on the last time you attended an Underground masquerade was nothing. A dream you took part in. Come week's end, you'll be the center of attention, before a number of guests who have all heard about the legendary mortal who once defeated the king. You'll be set apart from every mythical in attendance, put before the eyes of the Representatives and the Triumvirate where your actions and reactions," the fey stressed the latter in a way Sarah couldn't help but to take notice of, "will be judged. We can't have you making an ass of yourself now, can we?" She gave a kiss to the air on either side of Sarah's cheeks and saw herself to the door.

Alone in the sitting room, Sarah fumed over how Atofina had behaved, telling her she was masculine, insisting she not give a helping hand to her friends, but perhaps most infuriating, the way she told Sarah to address Jareth. If only she would have had the courage to tell the pretentious fey just how well acquainted she and the king were. For a moment she allowed herself to feel smug, but then she thought, 'What if Atofina could make the same claim Sarah wished she had?' Ignoring the golden braid which hung in the doorway of the sitting room, Sarah decided to make her own way back to her room.

She began walking down the hall towards the dining room to the main staircase when she heard the most enchanting music coming from one of the rooms off to the right. Sarah looked in the first door to find a powder room. The second door she knew was Jareth's office. From behind the third door she could clearly hear the music getting louder. It was definitely a piano, a mid-tempo piece with plenty of power notes. "Yooou. Yooou. Yooou." Someone sang from behind the door. Inching it open just enough to hear clearly, Sarah listened on, "No peachy prayers. No trendy rechauffe. I'm with you, so I can't go on." It was the king. She slid stealthily through the crack and gingerly shut the door behind her. Moonlight filled the room through a series of glass doors and splayed over a wooden inlay that took up three quarters of the floor. White walls and silver framed mirrors reflected a good portion of the light allowing it to bounce about the expansive area, but for the corner of shadow near the entrance where the mortal hid. "All my violence, raining tears upon the sheets. I'm bewildered that we're strangers when we meet."

Almost involuntarily her feet drove her towards him as she watched him play on. Eyes closed, he sang the words with great passion as gloved fingers danced over the keys, striking them with purpose as he played. "Did you write that?" she asked mistakenly thinking his solo was an ending to the piece.

"You might say." Jareth half chuckled as he patted the piano bench beside him. Sarah obediently sat. The king played on. "Blended sunrise and it's a dying world. Humming Rheingold, we scavenge up our clothes. All my violence raging tears upon the sheets. I'm resentful that we're strangers when we meet. Cold tired fingers, tapping out your memories, halfway sadness, dazzled by the new. Your embrace, it was all that I feared. That whirling room, we trade by vendu. Steely resolve is falling from me. My poor soul, all bruised passivity. All your regrets, ride rough-shod over me. I'm so glad that we're strangers when we met. I'm so thankful that we're strangers when we meet." He smiled at the mortal who sat beside him entranced by his words, hypnotized by the motion of his fingertips. "I'm in clover that we're strangers when we meet. Heel head over that we're strangers when we meet."

The last note of the melody rang in the space between the wooden floor and the high ceiling. It was a truly beautiful song that had touched Sarah deeply and though she hated to presume, it was not hard to draw a connection between its haunting lyrics and the experiences she and Jareth had shared. "You play magnificently," she finally managed to choke out.

"Thank you, I get it from my mother."

"I bet you do," this time Sarah gave him a small smile as she remembered thinking about the extraordinarily long fingers Leanan Sidhe had. They would have made good piano playing hands, just as Jareth's did.

"Do you like the room?"

For the second time she looked around the huge space. This time she noticed that the piano was not the only instrument inside. There were stringed instruments like she had never seen, flutes and drums, a harp. A band would have been needed to set every piece in there playing at once. "Do you play all of these?"

"Not all of them," Jareth admitted. "A few are Arulan's, but that one right over there," he used his right forefinger to point to a rosewood Gibson Hummingbird with a mahogany neck, "that is one I have yet to master."

On shaky legs Sarah approached the Gibson. From where she stood, she glanced back at Jareth, tears welling in her eyes. "How did you find one? They haven't made this model in years."

"Turn it over."

Sarah did not respond to his instructions immediately, rather, she allowed herself to hear the words and then took several second to realize what he was asking her to do. Why? On the back of the guitar her father had bought her, Robert Williams had them inscribe: To my little song bird, love from her daddy. Surely, the king hadn't managed to locate the actual guitar she'd been gifted when she was just ten. Yet, as she rotated the instrument in her hands on the back of its upper bout, just below and to the left of the neck, she read the words. Jareth was before her when she looked up from the body of the guitar, her tears falling freely over her cheeks. "How did you.."

"I went Aboveground and got it."

"But how? Wasn't Christian there?"

"By magic and no one saw me, I assure you."

Her arm cradled the curve between the bouts, hugging the instrument to her, as the fingers of the other hand wrapped round the neck and settled on the a few fret markers. She let go of the body to strum at the strings. "Thank you," she smiled up at him through tears. "I can't tell you what this means to me."

"I think I can see," he told her as his gloves wiped away the wetness from her face. "Well go on then, impress me as you did before."

"Oh, I can't possibly think of anything to play."

"There must be something you're familiar enough with to play by heart."

"Maybe something," she thought a moment. "There is this silly song I used to sing to Toby when he would refuse to go to sleep."

"That'll do nicely." Jareth fell back on his heels, folding his arms across his chest waiting for her to begin.

The song had a long opening, but when her lips curled in a smile and she began to sing about the little one whose company they had once shared, the king knew it was worth the wait. "When your sister plays guitar you dance without a smile. Kid, you may not have great rhythm, but you sure got style. Just four years old and still it seems you've got it figured out, when sister sings and then you dance, the people clap and shout. 'Cause you're my dancing boy and it's so scary how you trust me. Just one look from you and I come pouring out like wine. Dancing boy, I'm sure by now that you must see, your dancing means much more to me than any dream of mine. Yes, I'm so proud when you are with me, that my heart lifts in my throat and when you start to strut your stuff, my eyes go all a float. When I have to leave you home, as sometimes it must be, I feel that with my leaving, I leave far too much of me. Yes, you're my dancing boy and it's so scary how you trust me. Just one look from you and I come pouring out like wine. You're my dancing boy, I'm sure by now that you must see, your dancing means much more to me than any dream of mine."

Tears welled in her eyes as she played out a short bridge and then, choked up, she sang the last verse. Jareth let his eyes grow damp, her voice stirring in him long buried emotion. "You know the time will come my dancing boy, when your dancing days are done and when sister and her dancing boy will have dwindled down to one. You know the world will have taught you other steps to match the march of time, so you'll have to keep our dancing days, dancing in your mind. Yes, do your dancing boy and it's so scary how you trust me. Just one look from you and I come pouring out like wine. Do your dancing boy, I'm sure by now that you must see, your dancing means much more to me than any dream of mine."

Although Sarah's last note was horribly off key suffocated by a sob she forced back down her throat, it didn't keep the king from complimenting the talent he knew she had, in an effort to help take the focus away from the child he knew she missed and had ever since Toby had grown to leave behind his adolescence. "Simply amazing," Jareth praised her.

"It's nothing much. Once you know the major, minor and dominant chords, it's pretty easy. Watch." Sarah modeled a few chords for Jareth.

"May I?" he asked hesitantly

Relinquishing the instrument, Sarah watched him as he positioned it. He seemed a bit unsteady. "Use your knee," she offered. When he looked at her puzzled she added, "Step your foot up on something and balance it over your knee, in the slope between the bouts.

Jareth used his magic to materialize a stool which he propped his foot upon, then positioning the guitar over his knee, as she had instructed, he began to play. The king took to music quickly, watching her and the few simple tips she'd provided and he was converting his old piano tunes in no time. Sarah was amazed at the way he played, as if were second nature to him. It was almost as captivating as watching him at the piano had been, only he occasionally grew awkward when he tried to play without balancing the guitar on his knee.

"I've been looking for a woman to save my life, not to beg or to borrow. A woman with the feeling of losing once or twice. Who knows how it could be tomorrow? I've been waiting for you and you've been coming to me, for such a long time now." He sang as he played.

Sarah closed her eyes and let his words wash over her. Just as she was ready to fling herself into his arms and proclaim that she would be the woman he had searched for, the music ended. "You eyes are falling closed. Are you tired?"

Now that he mentioned it, Sarah supposed it had been a long day and getting some rest wouldn't hurt. She nodded at his question. Jareth set the guitar in the stand which he had also retrieved from Aboveground and reached for the cord which would summon Arulan. Sarah's hand stopped his just shy of the golden braid. "I had my first lesson with Atofina today," she said.

Drawing back his hand, the king turned, cocking an eyebrow at the mortal whose interjection had come from out of the blue, "Yes."

"Well, part of it was all about how I'm supposed to be catered to and blah, blah, blah."

'Oh yes,' he thought, 'she had learn much from Atofina.'

"Anyway, a lady should be escorted, don't you think? And since I am supposed to be in training for the masquerade, where you will be presenting me, shouldn't we take this chance to practice?"

"By my escorting you to our chambers," he purred.

The way he said 'our chambers' made Sarah's skin tingle. "Just a thought."

The king bent his arm and with a subtle bow, begged her to join him. "Milady," he said, his eyes intensely focused on hers. When she took his arm the tingling sensation intensified and seemed to run through her whole body, deeper than just her skin. A second later they were in the bed chamber. Night clothes had been laid out for Sarah, who let free of the king's arm and changed before him, brazenly, without care for the fact that he would see, fully aware that he would watch. And Jareth did watch, from behind her, at the foot of the bed. He watched the candle light igniting her silhouette, stepping forward to undo the clasp that Arulan had helped her with earlier and stepping back as she pulled the dress from her shoulders, holding it before her and stepping out. Before she covered her nearly perfect form in the silk chemise, Sarah removed the pins from her hair, one at a time, setting them on the beside table. When all her locks were free, she shook the ebony waves until they hung loosely down her back. Finally she slid the pale yellow gown over her head and allowed it to cover her naked body. By the time she turned around, Jareth was in his usual black silk night clothes.

Sarah crawled into bed tentatively, as if a great courage had suddenly drained from her body. The king joined her, prepared to take the couch once more, if she were to object to his sleeping at her side. Sarah did not object. He peeled back the duvet and slid beneath the weighty fabric, happy to be in a bed for the first night in a week, content to be in the company of his mortal. "Goodnight milady," he said silkily.

"Goodnight my king," she replied.

In the last of the light, just before Jareth's sweeping hand extinguished the sconces, she saw him smile a crooked smile, "Your king?"

"It is the way Atofina said I should call you."

"I rather think I have done a wise thing in arranging for you to meet with that woman," Jareth said before rolling onto his side where his partial nocturnal eyes could see the mortal even in the dark.

"You know, it's not the most uncommon thing Aboveground for friends to kiss," she said after the silence had grown long.

"Well," the king replied, propping up on one elbow, "if you're going to be generous enough to learn my customs, I suppose I should be generous enough to indulge you in yours." He bowed his head, gently grazing her lips with his, pulling away and recapturing them a series of times until she felt herself sufficiently frustrated by his games.

Sarah's small hands filled with his hair as she caught the back of his neck, holding him still and giving him a proper goodnight kiss. "Goodnight."

'Yes, it is,' he thought as he settled next to her.


	22. Chapter 22

**CHAPTER TWENTY TWO - PRACTICE TO MAKE PERFECT**

Days at the castle seemed to pass in rapid succession. There was always something to learn, something new to see, something that was changing. Sarah had come to spend much of her time out in the gardens, when Atofina wasn't drilling her on her social graces. A few times before she turned in Sarah stopped by the music room to listen for Jareth's singing. Some nights she just listened, other nights she joined him at the piano to sing with him or just to watch him play. It became apparent to her that music was very important to the Underground, as the flowers in the Labyrinth had been, as the underlying meanings of almost everything had been, it was certainly very abundant. She continued giving him lessons on the guitar, although she thought he'd already picked up more than enough to no longer require her tutelage.

On one particular night when she came to the music room door, she was met by silence. No strum of the guitar to remind her that she had been able to teach the Goblin King something, a fact which continued to amaze her. No tapping at the keys of the grand piano which reflected the moonlight through the French doors. No lost sound of lutes or lyres or the whistle of any number of flutes. Sarah, dismal at the prospect of going to sleep with no music still playing in her head, began to climb the grand staircase to the chamber of the king, where she had slept for the last four nights, hoping she would find him there. The soft leather bottoms of the slippers she wore plodded against the marble staircase, echoing in the stillness of her solitude, speaking volumes with no one around to hear or answer. There was a landing sixteen stairs up, where she stopped. The railing bowed out along the oblong edge of landing. Her hands slid along the smooth surface while she stopped to realize just how magnificent this castle was, how magnificent the Underground was. Backside resting against the banister, she focused on a potted orchid placed on a table in the center of the landing. It was as exquisite as its surroundings. Stepping forward she let a hand reach out to the velvet petals. Lightly she stroked along a pink streak which accented one of the ivory petals.

"Like fine linens don't you think?" Jareth said huskily in her ear.

Sarah gasped as she jerked to face him. No matter how often he employed this tactic to approach her, it always caught her off guard. Her heart pulsed at the surprise. "I was just looking for you."

"You've found me."

"I'd say it was you who has found me."

"So it was. How was this evening's lesson with Atofina?"

Sarah sighed, "I suppose it went well. I can't help thinking that there's more to her than you're letting on." She looked him in the eye, noticed the way his lips itched to smile even when he knew he shouldn't. "Then again, it shouldn't surprise me. Nothing here should surprise me. There's a deeper meaning to everything that goes on Underground."

This time Jareth let the smile curl his lips with no objection, "I think I may have something left that could surprise you."

Smiling up at him, she wondered what that might be. When his elbow jutted out in the familiar angle with which she had grown accustomed to being led around the castle, she replied, "By all means."

"Close your eyes," he whispered, his lips grazing her ear.

As Atofina had taught the mortal, she quickly obeyed the king. When once again she had been given permission to open her eyes they stood just inside the doorway of a bed chamber. There was a king sized oak bed with a muslin canopy and curtains. Sheets as crisp as freshly pressed cotton shirts covered a firm mattress, topped off with a floral duvet thick with down. It was seeing her wardrobe there that finally told Sarah the room was to be hers. A matching vanity table had been made and placed along side the wardrobe. A bureau was added and a full length, gold trimmed mirror mounted to the wall. There was a sitting area, sunken into her room. It lacked the majesty of a fireplace, but that didn't matter much. The furniture was upholstered with a plaid pattern which took in the beige of the muslin, the green from the duvet and the mauve from the drapes which hung over both large windows on the far wall to either side of the bed. An oak table separated the couch from the chair. A matching end table sat between the chair and a rocker. It was a wooden rocker, the seat cushion had been covered in the plaid fabric and the slatted back had a cushion tied over it as well.

"You didn't need to do all this," Sarah said, still in shock at what her eyes had seen, "not when I'm only going to be here another five weeks." Her mind continued, 'Not when I'd be just as happy to spend those nights with you, in your bed.'

"Mason did most of it," Jareth told her fighting hard to hold back the disappoint he felt that she had not been more thrilled with the room. "I hope you find it comfortable and adequate enough for your time here."

"It's not that I don't appreciate the effort. In fact, it's a beautiful room and I'm sure it will be more than adequate for my stay, provided that door leads to a bath even half as luxurious as yours." In an effort to show her appreciation for all the king had done for her, Sarah scampered toward the door in question.

"Actually," Jareth began when Sarah opened the door, "that's the..."

"Jareth?" She looked at him, confusion bending her brow.

"I was going to tell you. I didn't want you to feel isolated and you've been clear about how you feel having servants, so..."

"So, you thought you'd give me an adjoining door to your chambers." Returning to his side, a smile wide across her face, she asked playfully, "Why do I not think your motives are entirely forthright?"

His lips fell upon her forehead, "If my motives were anything less than forthright, I'd have told Mason to brick up that door," he pointed to the door through which one entered the chamber from the hall, "after he built that one."

In that moment, Sarah found herself suddenly reminded that she and Jareth had not shared each other's more intimate company since they were journeying home from the mountains. In fact, aside from what had become a traditional kiss goodnight there hadn't been much in the way of physical relationship between them at all. "But I do have a bath, right?" she asked in an effort to distract herself from the realization.

"Of course," the king moved to a second door and swung it open. Inside everything had been finished in sterile white tile that looked as if it had been scrubbed thoroughly. Gold fixtures adorned the white porcelain. A blue curtain hid the wash sink and the water closet. It was no where near as seductive as the bath in the king's chamber, but Sarah supposed it shouldn't have been, after all she was just a guest in the castle.

"What more could a girl ask for?"

"This girl, as you know, may ask for anything she likes and it shall fall from the heavens to land at her feet." He looked at her seriously, "Is there something you need which I have not provided?"

"No, not at all," she tried to convey her appreciation without letting too much of the disappointment seep through.

"Well, I'm sure your anxious to test out those linens. I had no idea it had gotten so late, so quickly. I will leave you to your rest."

Even though Sarah wasn't the least bit sleepy, she nodded. Her hand fell gently upon his forearm, "Thank you." The words were low and mild as she spoke them while subliminally she begged him to stay.

Jareth took her hand into his, gloved fingers caressing her bare skin, roaming up the length of her arm, across her shoulder, the side of her neck and finally coming to rest with her jaw settled in his palm. Sarah nestled into his touch. "Goodnight Sarah," he breathed out in a near sigh.

"Goodnight Jareth," her eyes were focused on his mouth.

The king's thumb trailed over her lip, for a second, she just allowed herself to enjoy the feeling of the leather on her mouth, before she pursed her lips and kissed at him. He tried to avoid her affection, keeping his thumb dancing from side to side, but she sought the fleeing appendage until Jareth saw no choice, but to replace it with his mouth. Greedily, he kissed her as she matched his fervor. This was not the kind of kiss which they had settled into sharing when they stayed in the same bed together. Perhaps they'd convinced themselves to be wary when they were so accessible to one another, but now, now that he knew he must walk through the adjoining door and sleep in his huge bed alone with her so close, so warm.

"I really must go," he said painfully as he pressed his forehead against hers.

"Are you sure?" she asked, her lips finding his chin, working their way down his throat and over the exposed patch of his chest displayed by the open shirts he continuously wore.

"Certain," he proclaimed weakly as he tried to push her away. Sarah slid down the length of his body, practically kneeling before the king, her hands working at his waist band. Jareth stilled her frantic fingers, "What has Atofina been teaching you?"

"Why would you ask me such a question?"

"Just a question," his hands lifted her back to standing, her fingers clenched in his gloves. He kissed the back of each hand before giving her a polite bow and taking his leave.

Sarah fell back on the bed the king had built for her, thankful that it was soft.

Deverell had spent the week training from sun up until sundown, breaking only for meals. Dalkeil agreed to his request for constant discipline, but only after warning him that there was such an idea as too much of a good thing. The young fey wouldn't hear of it. He had years of expertise to acquire and in his limited scope, only one way of achieving the goal. What little time he slept was on stacks of hay in the stables. Gribbin offered his bed, but Deverell politely refused. In truth, he was quite content to sleep so near the horses. While the smell wasn't much, he'd grown accustomed to their whinnying as he drifted to dream. He missed his home and his family; however, the Cleric had chosen him for this and he was proud. That alone would ensure he see his mission through until the end. Seeing what transpired in the Underground made him more greatly appreciate the peaceful existence of Burggraaf.

Each night when his heavy head fell down, it was a much earned sleep which eventually overtook him. Dalkeil worked him hard, precisely as the king would have wanted it. Whole days were spent working on one or two moves. The fey was forced to repeat attacks until they became such second nature he could perform them with his eyes closed, which was often asked of him. Deverell told himself time and time again the reward of serving the king would be worth the hard work of training to do so. Among his town's people he would be looked upon as a hero. Not to mention the Cleric would favor him for doing such a fine job with his assignment.

Just before the ball, after dinner, Jareth went into the training room so he might sit in on one of the sessions between his combat master and Deverell. The king agreed the youth had good form, his timing and aggression had improved, as Dalkeil said they had. Overall he was pleased, but he could tell that Deverell was still pulling back on the attack. He snapped his fingers and donned himself in fencing whites to have a go at the younger fey. It had been quite some time since he had practiced. When Jareth took the floor both men broke from the stalemate they were in and bowed to his majesty.

"Your highness, you come dressed and ready?" Dalkeil was surprised. He and the king had gone a few rounds in sport before, but he did not think the king would dare challenge the inexperienced Deverell. Why, with so much to prove, Dalkeil wondered if it was wise for Jareth to subject himself to the boy's over-zealousness.

"You have no doubt groomed me a worthy opponent."

"I have tried my best," Dalkeil admitted with a heavy sigh, still disappointed that his student pulled his punches.

"Well then, En Garde," Jareth called as he assumed position.

Deverell closed his face mask and matched the king's stance. His heart was hesitant to put forth his best performance for fear that he would some how injure Jareth and his gut hesitant to disappoint the king. Shortly into the battle, it became obvious he had nothing to worry about. Though the king's hand had long been void a proper sword, his skill returned as quickly as one recalls their own name. As Jareth countered and retaliated with an attack or two of his own, Deverell pulled out all the stops. Choreographing a series of parries which had them waltzing to and fro across the room. Deverell was possessed with a desire to impress the king. Finally, the young fey was able to pin Jareth against the wall, his sword at the king's throat.

Breathing heavily, he asked the king, "Do you find me capable of protecting your kingdom and your mortal now your highness?"

Jareth reached down to his side with the hand that did not hold his sword. With an almost unbelievable silence he rose his boot to meet his hand. From it he drew a dagger, the handle of which he jammed into Deverell's ribs sending him reeling back, grabbing at his side. Closing in on the boy, Jareth warned him, "To have you serve my kingdom would have been a true joy but for the fact that while you wasted your best energy dancing for me, you were too tired and too vain to make the kill. When you paused to gloat," Jareth spun the dagger in his hand until its serpentine silver blade rose from his grip, "this would have stolen the air from your lungs. I hate to think of the result were I to have had an iron weapon at my availability." Replacing the dagger in his boot, he was barely winded by the entire exchange. Jareth continued to scowl down at the boy who had yet to find himself standing fully straight. He turned to Dalkeil, "Haven't you taught this boy anything?"

"It's taken me this long to get him to attack at length. I thought he should know a sword before we tested his skills with a close range weapon like that," the combat master defended his decision pointing at the blade in Jareth's boot.

"That may be. I never expected he would behave so foolishly."

"I'm still in the room," Deverell announced when it seemed they'd forgotten.

The king turned on him in a swift movement, "And rather lucky for that I'd say." Deverell did not speak. "You have much left to learn, I suggest you let your trainer have a bit more say in your lessons. After all, he is the experienced one here."

"Yes, your grace"

Dalkeil walked with Jareth to the door where he asked the king, "Don't you think you were a bit rough on him?"

"Rough on him? By showing him that even a fey whose sword might feel like an extension of his own arm can be killed by his own foolishness? No, I don't particularly think that I was rough on him. In fact, I think I just gave him a lesson in staying alive, one he is not likely to soon forget. Now you try." With that Jareth stormed out of the training room.

Atofina and Sarah both jumped when they heard the door slam. The sitting room where they had been having their lessons was on the same side of the castle as the training room, although not on the same floor. "My, my, my. It seems as if his highness is a bit frustrated today. You wouldn't know anything about that now, would you?"

The mortal didn't much care for the way the fey asked the question, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"No sense in getting defensive. I was just making light."

"Making light?"

"Mortals," Atofina sighed. "Making light? Having a joke? Being facetious?"

Sarah looked at her with curiosity, "You make light of too much, if you ask me. For someone whose supposed to be teaching me to be a lady, you certainly make more than the occasional suggestive comment."

"I assure you, I am qualified to teach you, if that's what your worried about. It was I who taught the first queen of the Underground how to hold her head and wave her hand."

"It's not your qualifications I question, rather, I doubt that this is the only talent you possess."

Atofina's eyes grew wide, "I see the king has found himself a woman with a brain." She paced around Sarah, eyeing her up. After making her way to the door and shutting it securely, she returned to the chaise and took a seat. "If you want the whole story, I suggest you sit down as well." Sarah wondered why the dramatics, but did as she instructed. "Centuries ago, before the Triumvirate were appointed to rule the realm, there was a high court. When fey needed to appear before the high court or attend the functions of the high court, it was me they called for the instruction. The court managed to keep a certain amount of order, but as the elders grew weary, younger and younger fey sat on the court and corrupted it. When the raids began, the elders who remained in the court appointed the Triumvirate. The three most honorable and respected fey in the kingdom, for whom the court would work to maintain order. When the raids were over, many of the fey who comprised the court had been killed. Those that had survived worked with the Triumvirate to return order to the kingdoms, in doing so they had eliminated their own purpose. The Triumvirate easily oversaw the realm and the court was disbanded. Not wishing to pollute the system with some of the same deviance which soiled the court, the Triumvirate kept very much to themselves. They moved into the mountains. They threw no parties. Criminals were brought to them for punishment and where their presence was needed, it had to be requested. Even then they only appeared for about one in every three requests. When they gave the Underground its first king, Oberon chose a commoner for his bride."

"The first queen?" Sarah asked.

"Queen Gwendolyn," Atofina replied and then continued. "Kept me in business, for a time, I even lived in this castle. In the room where Arulan stays now." Despite her trying to hide the fact, Sarah was a bit jealous at this admission. "The commoners provided a fair clientele for me as well. They all believed that if Gwendolyn, an orphaned servant to a respected family could become queen, then any of them could become queen. They wanted to be prepared. Then it was Corwyn, who had little interest in taking a bride until he mastered being king. Before he had the chance to do either, he was murdered. Darien took over the throne, despite the threat of not knowing who it was attacking the throne. He was quite the Casanova, I admit. The Triumvirate buckled down on him, furious because his behavior was precisely the kind of thing which caused the high court to be disbanded. In no uncertain terms they insisted he marry if he wished to retain the throne. Darien was no fool. He chose a well groomed woman from a known and respected family. My assistance was no longer required, at least not by Queen Arianna." Though it hadn't been said directly, Sarah took that to mean that Darien's lecherous ways were not wholly unfamiliar to her trainer. "When Arianna gave birth to Leanan Sidhe, she gave strict orders to the female help. None of them were to go near her. She alone would see to the children's needs. Now the Underground had its first natural born queen. She would be bred to someday take a proper husband and so it seemed my services were no longer required."

"But you must have done something between then and now," the mortal noted.

"Indeed," Atofina agreed. "I met a fey who had once held seat in the high court. He'd begun work as a master to several courtesans. The idea had occurred to him that a woman, especially with the skills I acquired could teach dignity and grace, would be highly prized. And so, I began to train the courtesans. The longer I worked with these ladies, the more I realized that I could teach them more than decorum. Woman that I worked with were the most sought after. In the circles courtesans kept I had made quite a name for myself. By then, Jareth had been born and taken the throne. It was naturally assumed that I would reclaim my position at the castle when Jareth finally decided to take a bride. Only he has yet to do that, unless there's something you need to tell me?"

Sarah ignored her insinuation. "So you arrange for his woman?"

Atofina laughed heartily. "The king has no need for me to arrange for his company. My trips to the castle have been social. The master who recruited me, wished to recruit Jareth as well. Not to work the circles, but to, for lack of a better word, stud the inexperienced woman. After all, the king is Darien's grandson and Darien's prowess was no taboo. Leanan Sidhe was a passionate woman. Jareth had inherited both the ability and the passion."

Suddenly, Sarah felt quite warm, "You speak from experience."

"Actually," she propped up on one elbow, bring her knees up more tightly to her stomach and faced the mortal, "I do not. As you might already suspect, I was one of the naive woman whom Darien was able to capture in his bed. Something in me never felt right about having his grandson too. Besides, I think Jareth preferred to remember the way I was before I met the master, as the fey who will train his bride." Atofina studied Sarah's face intently waiting for her eyes to give something away. "It could be you if you play your cards right."

"I'm not here to marry the king. I'm here to rebuild the Labyrinth and then I'll be going home. You're here to train me for the ball and then your services will no longer be required, not by me anyway." She looked away briefly and asked as she met the fey's eyes once again, "Wouldn't Jareth do better to marry a royal?"

"How little you know of the king," Atofina laughed and eventhat she did with remarkable grace. "It is not his way to find what is royal attractive as well. He is very much like his mother that way. He craves what is simple, what is natural and free. Tell me that you haven't felt it?"

"Excuse me?" Sarah said shocked.

"Jareth's aura is like a burning coal. His heat can be felt across a crowded room. When those eyes settle on you, every cell in your body is aware of it. Tell me that when he offers you his elbow and you slide your arm through his, tell me that you don't feel electricity."

"My feelings for Jareth are none of your concern."

"Your feelings for whom?" Atofina smiled knowingly. "Listen deary, you're absolutely right. It's none of my business, but let me at least give you this bit of advice. If he wants to share your company, do it. Enjoy him while you can, it comes highly recommended, so much as I've heard. Have yourself a bit of an affair, a summer fling."

Despite the fact that Sarah had been doing just that, she asked anyway, "Don't you find that the least dishonest?" Perhaps a part of her sought absolution.

"A woman has just as much right to please herself as a man does, doesn't she?"

"But..."

"That's the first thing I teach the woman I work with. I could teach you other things, if you want, if you're worried that you lack the experience to satisfy someone like Jareth." Sarah remained silent. "Well if you want nothing more from me, we've finished our lessons. You've done remarkably well. I have no doubt you will excel at the ball."

"I...I," Sarah stumbled, "still need to learn how to...dance. I've never been much in the way of ballroom dancing."

Atofina smiled again. "Dancing," she said with a certain disbelief in her voice, "is a relatively normal activity among the fey. You'll find that Jareth is an excellent dancer. For the most part you need only let him lead you and you'll be fine."

"Perhaps you don't understand. I don't even know the basic steps."

Atofina stood and extended a hand to the mortal. She took the girl into her arms the way Jareth would have. "A simple box step will get you through just about any situation. Start with you left foot. Back. Left. Forward. Right. Back. Left. Forward. Right. Good. Now look in my eyes. Back. Left. Forward. Right." The fey woman was as relentless as Arulan. "You can move your left hand up the back of his neck if you like. There his long hair can hide your fingertips as they stroke his neck or the sensitive spot just behind his ear." Sarah's mouth was agape, but she was listening intently. "Or you can lay your palm flat against his chest, just below the shoulder and allow one finger or your thumb to graze his open chest. You're right thumb can also stroke his palm as you dance. I guarantee you the king will take notice."

"I'll keep that in mind," Sarah said raising an eyebrow as she excused herself from the fey's grip.

"I'm sure you will. If you discover that you need anything else from me, have his highness call."

"Thank you."

"Yes milady."

Atofina reached for the cord to summon Arulan, "I'll see you to the door," Sarah offered. When the fey had gone, Sarah retired to the music room.

It was far too early in the evening for her to expect to see Jareth there, but that was as she wanted it. Sarah sat at the piano, bathed in the moonlight, her fingers trolling over the keys. Absentmindedly she began to play, over and over again, the same series of notes until the rhythm was imbedded in her mind. Sarah stood on the wooden flooring. She gathered the hem of her peach skirt into her right hand and gave a slight curtsy, "Yes your highness. I'd be delighted." Her left arm hung around an imaginary shoulder while the right hand held an imaginary glove. "I'm having a simply wonderful evening." Between each comment, she paused, imagining an answer. "The music is lovely, though not as much as when I listen to you play." Her thumb stroked gently where Jareth's left hand would have been. She imagined Jareth's elegant eyebrow arching above his eye with the enlarged pupil. "Everyone's been perfectly polite. I'm very much looking forward to visiting the sectors...and to whatever time we'll be able to spend alone." Her fingers moved along the spot where his neck would have been. This time she saw his maddening grin, wide and devilish.

Having had his fill of Deverell, Jareth left the training room to shower and dress. Outside the music room he stood, concerned with the fact that his heightened fey hearing detected only one voice throughout the conversation. Silently he slid inside, hiding in the shadow where Sarah herself had hid the first time she snuck in while following the entrancing rhythm which beckoned her.

"I've always enjoyed our time alone. Haven't you?" There was a faint giggle, "Your majesty, really you shouldn't speak that way when we're in such close company with others." The whole time she spoke to the air, her feet continued in a simple box pattern which became more and more second nature.

His hand hid his smile as fingers cupped his chin, all but the pointer that tapped the side of his nose. The king transported himself to the piano bench and began to play. It made Sarah jump. "No, please," the king said as he continued to play, "go on. You were doing so well."

She smiled a coy smile. "Thank you."

Jareth used his magic to keep the keys pounding out an easy dance rhythm, then he stepped onto the floor with the mortal, sweeping her gracefully into his arms as he said, "Proper dancing requires a proper partner. May I?"

"I'd be delighted." This time she felt that burning aura, that focused stare, the electricity that Atofina told her about. It went beyond the fact that he danced as lightly as the air blew, it was more ethereal and emanating. As they spun around the floor, Sarah realized that she was no longer watching her feet when she danced. Instead she stared into the eyes of the Goblin King, almost to the point of not seeing the remainder of his facial features, only the two cerulean circles that seemed to see her in a way no one else had. In the onyx black center of his eyes she could see her face. For a moment she thought about the special effect created by mirrors where an image would seemingly go on forever when two mirrors faced each other. Seeing herself in his pupil was very much the same effect. It was almost lulling, until she noticed a different image in his left pupil, the enlarged eye. Her image, but not an image of the present, not an image of what Jareth was seeing. Sarah pulled away from him a bit.

Jareth let her free asking, "What's the matter?"

"Nothing," she lied. "I just thought I saw something."

"Outside?" Jareth ran to the doors and peered into the night. "What is it you thought you saw?"

"Nothing, really. N...n...nothing. I just have tired eyes and they're playing tricks on me. I'm sure that's all it is." Her reaction was a foolish one, she knew, and her saying she had tired eyes even more foolish, for now the king would demand she rest.

"Are you feeling alright? Perhaps I should see you to bed."

"I'm fine. I'm not ready for bed. Let's finish our dance," she suggested, stepping up to him and holding her arms in position.

Unable, as always, to resist his mortal, Jareth swept her back into his arms. When Sarah glanced at his eyes again, the images were identical. 'Best I not stare,' she thought. Her attentions wandered over his face. The tiny lines in the corner of his eyes that bow-tied when he smiled. The thickness of his lips. The design of his eyebrows. And back to his mouth, always his mouth. Whether it were the words he spoke or the kisses he gave, Sarah couldn't help looking at it as an opening to his soul. She was fascinated by the way his lips moved, mesmerized by the way he spoke, hypnotized by the way he said her name, but when he sang, oh, when he sang, it sent her away to fairytales and far off lands very much like the one she found herself in now. The lyrics forming pictures in her head. The entire surface of her skin alive with knowing.

Before she knew what she was doing, she pulled herself toward him. Jareth's arm slid up her back agreeing to hold her more tightly. Her eyes closed lightly and her head tilted a hair to the left. Even blind, Sarah found his lips. She kissed him tentatively at first, the way one would try to kiss the wind. His response as weak. As they swayed her lips stayed pressed to his. Persistence paid off when the king finally released the hand he'd been holding during their dance, lowered her arm, which quickly found his side and used his newly freed hand to grasp her neck, bracing it as he fiercely returned her affection in a more suitable way. The kiss was hard and yet passionate. Jareth's tongue dove repeatedly into her mouth tasting her. Sarah let out a small moan, her hands grasping his shoulder and side more tightly. Jareth's right hand wrenched the fabric of her peach dress, twisting it as he held her to him. She felt her nipples tighten with excitement. It had been a nearly a week since they had been intimate. It occurred to her that Atofina was right about the king's abilities. They were very nearly addictive. Sarah needed him, if nothing else, she needed him.

When his mouth left hers she sighed. The Goblin King's lips skimmed her cheek, his tongue flicking over her jaw line as he neared her ear. A jagged tooth nipped at the lobe before his lips fell to either side of her artery applying gently pressure and light suction along her neck. She called his name, her fingers resting in his unruly hair holding him to her throat encouragingly.

A knock at the door, halted them both. They turned, still disheveled and flushed with passion. "Come in," Jareth called as he tried to smooth his hair.

Arulan curtsied when she entered, "Your grace," she said lowering her glance to smile at the state of fluster they were both obviously in. "Beg your pardon, your grace, but Turgomon has inquiries for tomorrow's festivities, items he says cannot wait."

Secretly, Jareth was thankful she had broken up their kiss before he did something he would regret. "I see." He turned to Sarah, giving a small bow, he said, "Milady, my duties take me away. Thank you for our dance." Jareth took her hand and kissed the back of it tenderly, his eyes never leaving hers. "Good night."

Sarah curtsied, "Good night your majesty."

"Arulan, see that Sarah is escorted to her bed chamber and make certain that she has everything she needs for the ball."

"Yes your grace," Arulan smiled.

"What was that going on between the two of you?" she asked in mock anger.

"Nothing. Atofina had given me dancing lessons. Jareth found me practicing alone and thought I should have a go at dancing with a partner. Nothing more." Sarah straightened her dress in an effort to make the statement seem more believable.

"You don't owe me any explanations," Arulan replied. "Now then, to bed with you. Have you tried on your dress for the ball? Does it need altered at all? What about your hair? How will you be wearing your hair?"

"I haven't tried on the dress and I don't know how I'll wear my hair. I'll have to see the dress first."

"Mercy me," Arulan fluttered. "We've got no time to waste. Let's get you upstairs in a hurry and get that gown on you."

Arulan wrestled the massive gown free from the wardrobe. Sarah drew a breath when she saw how beautiful it was. Three quarters of the sleeves were black, tapered to the middle of her forearm where they met with a sweeping silver bell. The neck line scooped low, the bodice, black, sewn with silver thread so that it appeared quilted. It tightened at the waist and rose in a half dozen scallops that caused the skirt to gather. From the gathers it hung to the floor, parted in the front to reveal several silver layers beneath the black satin. "You're kidding me," Sarah went running for the gown, holding it to her chest and looking at herself in the mirror.

"You like the gown?"

"Arulan, I love the gown!"

"Well, try it on. What are you waiting for?"

'A few mice to turn into horses and a pumpkin for a coach,' she thought as she undid the laces at the back of her dress and slid the magnificent gown over her head. The dress clung to her as if it had been made around her. The choker Jareth had given her earlier in the week switched from a delicate silver chain which had matched the peach dress into the embroidered band it had been when it was draped over the king's fingers to better suit her current attire. Sarah blinked twice at the transformation, still not used to the magic she was submersed in. "Up I think, my hair, I should wear it up," her hands held her raven locks over her ears.

Arulan went to the dressing table, opening one of the drawers. She withdrew two silver combs from inside, shut the drawer and returned to Sarah's side. "The king would be pleased indeed to see you wearing these."

In the elf's hands were the wiry silver combs Sarah had worn during their first masquerade when she was just fifteen. Looking at them, she easily recalled the feel of them on her head, weighty but not cumbersome. As her mind trailed on to other events from that day long in her past, Arulan worked the combs into her hair. She looked nearly the same as she had then, though less awkward and immature. "Shoes!" Arulan cried, hurrying back to the wardrobe. "Wait until you see the shoes."

Matching the silver in her dress, the shoes were open at the toe and slung back over the heel. When she slipped them on the heel was so high, Sarah felt as though she were on pointe, like the ballerina from the music box she'd had. The shoes, the dress, the combs, she felt like dancing. She felt like going back to the music room and twirling and twirling until she was too dizzy to stand.

"Everything's a perfect fit," Arulan said gleefully as she watched the mortal.

"It really is," Sarah smiled.

"Time you take that off, otherwise, I think you might try and sleep in it!" Her laugh was contagious and Sarah joined in.

Even with the dress safely tucked back into the wardrobe, the feeling of wanting to dance stayed with Sarah. Long after Arulan had been dismissed and she had changed into her bed clothes, Sarah still felt herself swaying to every step, Jareth's magical piano melody playing in her head.

"Your majesty, they must be allowed in the castle. They've been invited, it's far too late to change that now. After all they are the former king and queen." Turgomon went over the list of respondents with Jareth.

"Fine, they may attend, but Darien is to be watched."

Muttering, Turgomon reminded him, "he is your grandfather."

"He is to be watched. Never should he be left alone with the mortal. In fact, but for the presentation, he should not be allowed contact with her at all."

"Yes, your grace."

"Why was she invited?" Jareth pointed to one of the names on the list, "Who made out the invitations?"

"My lord, I did."

"What were you thinking?"

"I took the list from the last festival thrown in the Underground, added and subtracted where there had been birth or death, made certain all the royals had been invited and ..."

"I cannot watch the mortal all evening. It will be expected that I socialize. If she's tied to my coat tails all evening the entire Underground will grow suspicious." The Goblin King said this more to himself than to Turgomon who, despite not being the subject of the king's statement, agreed wholeheartedly. "Guards! There will be guards to watch her?"

"No your majesty. Again, guards would make her importance rather pronounced. I rather thought that between Deverell and myself, the young lady would be well looked after while you hosted the festivity."

Eyeing him closely, Jareth mulled the idea over in his head. Turgomon was not wholly untrustworthy, but Deverell seemed to show some interest in the mortal. No sense in arguing, he decided. After all, Jareth could easily handle Deverell. "Agreed. I want Dalkeil posted outside."

"Then your highness, we have only one problem left to remedy."

"What might that be?"

"The menu, your grace."

"Turgomon, certainly you don't mean to entertain me by admitting that you could not plan a menu."

"Well, sire, it seems the goblins were unable to trap enough hens for each attendant. I was curious how you thought best to handle the situation."

Jareth sighed a heavy sigh, "Either we don't throw enough parties here or you are grossly overrated. Spit a pig, roast the hens and have chef make a roast. We'll dine buffet."

"Very good your majesty. Precisely what I would have suggested. Would you like to see the decorations before you retire?"

"No, I'm already...on second thought I would like to see the hall if it's ready."

"Indeed. Follow me."

Turgomon led him to the ballroom which had been cleaned and polished until the floors shown like glass and the gold fixtures sparkled like stars. Jareth looked around. Though he had used the ballroom a time or two since Sarah's last visit, it was the recollection of her sweeping across the floor which returned to his mind when he came here. "I trust you are pleased."

"Indeed. Tell the staff they will be given this sabbath to do as they please," Jareth paused before adding, "provided everything goes well tomorrow night."

"They will be most pleased with your generosity, your grace." Turgomon bowed before taking his leave.

'If only everyone were so easily pleased,' the king thought.

The music room was quiet when Jareth walked by. Just to be sure, he opened the door and stepped inside. As he expected, no one was there. Disappointed the king sat at the piano bench. He drew a crystal from the air and focused on his mortal. She was tucked into bed, on her side with her eyes closed. The clock chimed eleven as Jareth made the ball vanish. Playing the same song he'd played when they danced, his gloved fingers tapped against the keys. In his minds eye, he saw them waltzing in the moonlight. It dawned on him then that he would always want her, even if she didn't love him and he couldn't let himself love her, he wanted her. Rather than spend the night brooding, he climbed the stairs and retired to his chamber hoping that sleep would claim him with merciful speed.

In his silk pants, Jareth lay atop the duvet staring up at the ceiling. His eyes refused to close and sleep evaded him. Instead, frustration lay beside him and whispered in his ear. When he'd had all he could stand, the king left his bed and in bare feet crossed the cold stone floor to the door that separated him from his mortal. His hand fell against the door. Through the thin silk of his gloves the doorknob felt like ice, but it did nothing to dim the heat of his desire. Giving in to himself, he turned the knob and crossed the threshold into her room. For a moment he just watched her lying there in the dark, wondering what dreams were filling her head. It wasn't until Sarah rolled over to face the king that he realized she hadn't been asleep.

"What are you doing watching me sleep?" Sarah asked groggily.

"How'd you know I was here?"

"The mirror," she admitted. "Now I answered your question. You answer mine."

"I felt bad about running out on you in the music room earlier."

Sitting up against the headboard, "You had things to attend to, I understand."

Though he didn't let on, he could see her night gown peeking out from under the top of the duvet, red silk and black lace, elegant and sexy. "Even still, it was in bad manners and I apologize."

"Thank you, your highness."

Jareth approached her bed, "You know you aren't required to be so formal with me when we're alone."

Even from the other side of a king sized bed he had a way of unnerving her. "I'll keep that in mind." His pale chest shone in the dark.

"Speaking of things that have been on my mind," the king began.

"Yes."

"You made a suggestion the other day, I believe you called it 'something to think about'."

For a moment she wished she'd have been drunk enough to forget what it was she said, but in fact she remembered. "Something to the effect of being tied to your bed posts."

Jareth noddd his head as he crawled across the bed toward her. When he settled against her side, her cool bare arm brushed over his naked back. "I must admit, I've missed you this last week."

"I've missed you as well," Sarah admitted.

Even in the shadows she could see his teeth when he smiled at her. The Goblin King's grin came closer and closer as he bent to claim her lips with his own. "Jareth?" Sarah asked when he broke their kiss.

"Yes," he replied nipping at her throat.

"Please don't start something you don't intend to finish."

"And if I intend to bring you to a finish again, and again, and again, would I have your permission to continue?"

"By all means," Sarah said, made breathless by his proposition.

Jareth peeled back the duvet, exposing her full nightgown. It came to rest at her mid-thigh, slit a few inches on either side. He could see that her nipples had already stiffened and when he reached between her legs to stroke her tenderly, he found her wet and ready.

Sarah's body responded to his electric touch by unleashing the anticipation that had steadily built since the kiss in the music room. In a swift movement that shocked even her, Sarah pushed Jareth back by the shoulders and straddled his midsection. His mouth remained bent in a smirk of approval, his eyebrows arching in surprise. "I hope you don't mind," she asked in mock innocence as she rocked against him.

His head shook casually. "Not at all."

Sarah bent to taste his mouth, her tongue eagerly slipping inside to stroke his. She felt his hands grasp her bottom beneath her nightgown. When her lips left his they wound slowly around to his neck, thoroughly exploring the chasms at his shoulder and the hollow of his throat. Sliding between his legs, she kissed lightly over his chest. Over his stomach, to the waistband of his sleeping pants she tasted his flesh, placing small kisses here and there. When her small hands slipped beneath the black silk, Jareth hoisted his backside so that she could more easily remove the garment. With the king fully exposed, she marveled at his readiness, still amazed that he allowed her this much control.

Her eyes met his as she drew him into her mouth and even she had to admit to being shocked by her own brazen behavior. She hadn't often enjoyed this task, but here, with him she found that it brought her an extraordinary pleasure. His sounds of approval praised her as she continued the rhythmic motion that was bringing him so close to a total loss of resilience.

Not wishing her fun to end so quickly, Sarah moved each leg over Jareth's and allowed him to slip easily inside her. Once united, Jareth began to rock his hips against the mortal. "Ah, ah, ah," she told him wagging a finger side to side in the air. Lowering to meet his mouth, she continued, "I didn't tell you you could move."

For reasons he couldn't explain, her words drove Jareth wild making him wish to throw her to the mattress beneath them and prove to her otherwise, but he would let Sarah have her fun. After all, his once meek and mute mortal was now only vocalizing her desire, but she'd grown bold enough to give orders to a king, and that was to be rewarded. With slow, purposeful movements she slid across his entire length.

Gathering the hem of her nightgown in his hands, "May I?" Jareth asked sheepishly.

Raising her arms above her head, Sarah replied, "You may."

'God, she's beautiful,' Jareth thought as the chemise found its way to the floor. Silk gloves captured her cheeks, pulling her to him for a kiss. She shivered as he caressed her shoulders, finally placing a palm over each breast and kneading her flesh.

"These have got to go," Sarah said grabbing his left hand, prepared to pluck it off by the fingertips.

"Not the gloves," Jareth said rather seriously.

"What's so special about the damned gloves?"

"You dare to question me?" he asked playfully.

"I do."

Jareth's palm opened as if he was expecting someone to hand him something. When his riding crop appeared, Sarah's mouth hung open, "What's that for?"

The king grinned wickedly. "This old thing?" he teased as he dragged the cool leather loop over Sarah's spine. "I keep it around for a number of reasons," he purred as the crop's end ran over her backside.

Sarah challenged, her lips grazing his, "Name three."

"Swatting flies," he said smugly and gave a light tap at her tender flesh.

"That's one," Sarah jerked with a giggle.

"Knocking things off high shelves." This time the swat was just a bit firmer.

She was prepared for his game this time and counted "Two," as she moved with more purpose this time.

Jareth closed his eyes, reveling in the sensation. "And thrashing insolent mortals who attempt to remove my gloves while they're drunk with power."

Sarah's eyes went wide when she felt him swat her rump with the crop this time. Her hand rested on his chest, "It's no wonder they made you king of the goblins, wielding a crop like that, you couldn't possible control anything over three feet tall."

"Foolish girl," he feigned irritation as he reintroduced his crop to her plump cheek more forcefully.

Her nails dug into his chest and he felt her tighten around his hardness with the blow. they went on with their playful banter, swat, writhe, repeat as Sarah confidently took from him what she had been desiring for so long. He allowed her her game until the king too grew nearer to release, a pleasure he knew he could not allow himself. Regrettably he thought of any number of tragic things as he rushed her to her height. When he felt her go rigid he pressed himself to her and let her take her satisfaction.

"Naughty girl," he told her as she collapsed against his chest, her whole body drenched in perspiration.

"Haven't I been punished enough?" she asked breathless.

"I am not a kind fey Sarah. You may recall my words...again and again and again."

'How does he do it?' she wondered as he turned her on her back above the duvet.

On his side, pressed against her hip, Jareth produced four crystals that spun just above Sarah's stomach. She watched on in interest as she caught her breath. Propped up on one elbow, Jareth seemed to be only casually lounging at her side spinning crystals for amusement. When he finally plucked one of the spheres from its orbit, Jareth rolled it over Sarah's hot skin. The crystal was like ice and she hitched a breath in her throat. Letting the orb go, it shot down the length of her right arm, changed into a leather strap and bound her to the bed post by the wrist. Sarah gasped.

"This is what you were thinking wasn't it?" he asked.

"Yes, but, I...I don't know." Jareth kissed her tenderly making her forget her hesitation. "I've never done anything like this before."

"Do you trust me enough to know that I wouldn't hurt you?"

"Yes," she answered honestly feeling his lips against her throat. "But I don't know if I can do this."

Jareth pulled down another of the circling orbs, rolling it across her stomach before allowing it to roll to her ankle, binding her left foot to another post, "All you have to do is tell me to stop," he said in a rich tone against her neck.

Sarah was nervous, but she didn't want him to stop. To show her approval, she moved her left hand to reach for him.

"Ah, ah, ah," he mocked. "You had your chance to be in charge." Pulling down another crystal, he bound this arm as the other had been. The remaining crystal fell to her stomach as lightly as a feather. Jareth directed this orb between her thighs and applied the cool pressure to her most sensitive space. The contrast was delicious and soothing and it made Sarah's whole body shiver. When she was hungry for more he sent the crystal to bind the remaining appendage.

Spread eagle and restrained, the mortal felt incredibly vulnerable. She heard Jareth's fingers snap above her head just before her eyes were covered by a black sleeping mask. The king heard her draw a breath and give in to the darkness of the mask and the depravity of their game, giggling when she felt the crop tickling her feet. Jareth summoned up a feather and used it to tickle her side and stimulate her breasts. Sarah allowed her body to react with laughter and wanton cries. His mouth covered her breast, his hot tongue bathing her stiff nipple and then blowing over the tight skin to thrill her.

"You enjoy that, do you?" he asked.

"Very much," she smiled.

He continued to tease at her, his mouth, his hands, his teeth; the degrees of pressure varied and he seemed to carefully await and evaluate her response. The heat of him against her seemed even more noticeable without the benefit of her sight and she was painfully aware of the cool of the room when he backed away from her. Then she felt his breath on her thigh. 'Good God,' she thought as she tried to steady her shaking arms.

"Easy love," the king soothed her as his hands cascaded over her. "I'm not going to bite unless, of course, you ask...nicely." That said, he began the same manipulations he had been guilty of before in his new position Sarah pulled at her arm restraints desperate to fill her hands with the feel of him. The leather straps snapped her arms back and she grunted her frustration. Jareth continued the torture he had begun, thrilled when Sarah's hips rocked against him.

'He could be so cruel,' she thought as he brought her to a fevered pitch. Surrendering to what she knew he wanted Sarah purred until the purr became a roar and she said with authority, "Put your tongue inside me."

So it was true. She had learned to demand and command, 'Well done, love," he thought as he obeyed. The pleasure drove Sarah's shoulders into the mattress. Jareth kept at his skillful ministrations until Sarah shook in her restraints as she surrendered to the intense vibrations that quaked within her. As her body stilled Jareth kissed her tenderly until the waves passed.

Sarah sensed him move again. A minute later, fearful that he might have left her tied this way, she called out, "Don't you dare leave me this way."

"Are you dissatisfied?" he asked from somewhere to her left.

"No, not at all. I mean tied like this. Don't leave this room without untying me." She heard metal meet wood.

"Gone and back already I'm afraid."

"How?"

"Open your mouth."

"What?"

"Not to talk. Just open you mouth."

Sarah did as she was told. Jareth took a strawberry from the tray he'd brought back and dipped it into a dish of chocolate sauce. He set the berry on her tongue and whispered, "Bite."

Without objection, Sarah followed her king's instruction. Chewing the fruit she hummed her recognition, "Hmmmm, chocolate covered strawberries."

This time the Goblin King plucked a cherry from a bowl and dragged it through a cloud of whipped cream. "Open," he waited for her to do as he said. "Close your lips and pull." The slight jerk in her eyebrows did not go entirely unnoticed. Cream bubbled over her lips as she followed his instructions a second time. Before she could finish chewing, Jareth's mouth covered hers, his teeth tugging at her lip as she pulled away.

"Hmmmm, I like that one best," she smiled.

"The cherry?" he inquired, busily preparing another.

"No. You."

"I see. Well what can we do about that?" He dotted her lips with cream, kissing it away. Sarah shrieked when he began placing dollops along her body, but then laughed devilishly when she realized what was to follow. Jareth followed along the trail he'd made clearing her sweet tender flesh of the whipped cream. With the task complete, he turned his attention to her parted lips, kissing her thoroughly as he positioned himself over her. His movements slow and purposeful. His concentration was deep, but it was elsewhere, and that was what he hated about this. The more she protested his sedate movement the more Sarah fought her restraints. To appease her he went deeper as he held her to him. Jareth was beginning to wear thin, perhaps he had overcommitted. She demanded he remove the blindfold.

Against his better judgment, he complied with her wishes. It would make things more difficult later, for him anyway, but he always did have trouble denying her the smallest of things. She looked deeply at him. "I'm sorry if I said anything that was out of line."

"Sarah, nonsense. I'm glad you could feel so comfortable with me."

"Do you feel comfortable with me Jareth?"

"You know this may not be the most appropriate time to have this discussion." Sarah's eyes began to tear. "More so than with most. That's all I can offer you."

"From you it's enough." Her mouth captured his and she kissed him deeply out of understanding. Jareth broke their kiss for fear of losing more of himself to her. His movements became faster, harder more needy. Sarah was close to finding her release yet again. Jareth held her closer to him enthralled at the way she tossed back her head and cried out his name. He felt her tighten and then relax. Jareth used her distraction to try to keep hidden the fact that he had not found the satisfaction she had. He undid her bindings and massaged at the marks her struggle had left on her writsts and ankles before lifting her tenderly and tossing back the duvet. The sheets were warm and welcoming when he nestled her inside them, then placing a goodnight kiss on her forehead, he turned to go.

"Time for you to rest. Tomorrow will be a big day for you."

Sarah smiled and nodded at him. "Goodnight Jareth."

"Goodnight milady." Giving a gentle bow, he returned through the door to his quarters.

Back in his bed, Jareth stared at the ceiling. He couldn't keep this up. Despite what he promised himself he had to let her know that this was more than sex to him. At least he wanted it to be more than sex.

"The king wasn't at breakfast this morning," Sarah pointed out to Arulan.

"His majesty needed to finalize some of the arrangements for tonight's festivities."

Sarah fussed with the mask the elf was applying, "He wasn't at lunch either."

Arulan swatted her hand, "Leave that dry. What happened to the chipper little miss I woke this morning?"

"She was sealed up in this mud masque," the mortal grouched.

"Yes, well, scoff if you will, but you're going to have skin like porcelain when we peel this off." Arulan sat on a stool at her feet massaging the mortal's soles. Sarah never had a pedicure before, but the elf insisted that she have it done because of the open toed shoes that had been chosen for her. "Don't touch your face," Arulan called out for the twentieth time. "I'm going to have you soak your fingers so you can't mess with that masque, otherwise I'll have to tie your hands to the chair." Sarah smirked, a wicked smile causing all kinds of ripples and cracks in the dried clay. "Stop smiling, you'll give yourself wrinkles. Here, what are you smiling over anyway?"

"Nothing Arulan. Wasn't it you who told me I shouldn't move about too much in this. I'll just be quiet and let you finish my nails."

"Sure, now you want to listen to me and just now when I think we've really stumbled on to something I should want to hear." Arulan finished the pedicure with a thin coat of clear nail polish. When she finished Sarah's toes, she begun to manicure the mortal's hands. Polishing them in a magnificently elegant silver that would match her dress and shoes. While the nails dried Arulan removed the mud masque and applied a deep moisturizer.

Sarah sighed deeply as the elf finished the facial by laying a hot towel over her fresh face. When the towel was removed, the mortal noticed a table had been moved into her room. Arulan indicated that she should laying down. As the elves tiny hands dug into Sarah's back muscles with a strength and power she had not anticipated, she groaned. Not long afterwards she felt herself on the edge of sleep. As relaxation found its way into the small of her back she gave into the feeling and began to dream of what the ball would be like.

It was after three when she began to snore and Arulan shook her awake. "Enough of your lazing," she chided. We've got to get you ready. You make your entrance at five, dinner will be served at six..."

"But I thought the ball started at four?"

"It does, but it would be improper if you were to show before all of the guests."

"But this ball is being thrown in my honor." Sarah crossed her arms over her chest, "Why wouldn't I be there to greet everyone."

"No Sarah, this ball is thrown to introduce you to the kingdom." Arulan opened a silver case and began applying make up to Sarah's face, "You'll be presented as a guest of the king, someone who will rebuild our kingdom. It is you who must impress these people so that there's no rivalry or dissension."

"But I thought..."

"You will greet the attendants and seek they're approval. Didn't Atofina go over this with you?"

"No."

Arulan sighed, "Guess it's up to me. Jareth will introduce you to each person by their title. Pay careful attention and use the titles he uses. Don't spend more than a couple of seconds with any one guest, not until after dinner. You may dance, but only if asked and never with anyone of whom the king objects."

"Arulan, you've got to be kidding. I'm thirty for Christ's sake. I'm supposed to go down there and act like it's some kind of little girl's coming out party and not breathe if my father doesn't tell me it's appropriate."

"Oh dear. Oh dear." Arulan was busily trying to ready Sarah, but she kept squirming about in the chair going on about the ridiculousness of the kingdom's rules. Finally, thoroughly fed up with her whining, Arulan took Sarah by the shoulders and steadied her, "I have no idea what a little girl's coming out party is, but this is how things are done here. Here is where you are now. You had your chance to wish yourself home and you chose to stay. You've forfeited your rights to quibble 'bout the way we do things. As for you being of age, you certainly don't act like it." At this Sarah's mouth hung open and an audible sound of displeasure escaped her. "Besides, even at your age, you'd still be considered a minor in the Underground. This ball is extremely important to the king. He's got to look as though he has some control over you, which is why Atofina was supposed to work with you, what little she was able to accomplish. If for one instant the royals get the impression the king doesn't have full control over you, it's him that's in danger, him and his kingdom. So in short, Sarah, I don't want to hear so much as a peep about what you want. You will make your entrance promptly at five. You will behave as a perfectly compliant guest, happy for the opportunity tohonor the king. You will not speak of or act as though the king has given you any special privileges and when he acts the same, you'll not look surprised." Thoughts of the previous evening once again intruded making Sarah grin. "Honestly," Arulan went back to work on Sarah's face, "I don't know why Jareth insists on having Atofina come if she won't review the basics."

The pair did not speak again until it was time for Sarah to stand and step into her dress. She'd been put in bloomers and not objected. After all, they were light, airy and really rather comfortable, but Sarah's lips quivered, eager to oppose when Arulan wrapped the stiffened ribs of a corset around her torso. The elf's stern eyes almost begged her to express her opposition to the garment, still hot with the anger of their previous disagreement. Sarah only pursed her lips together. Arulan grabbed the laces of the corset in her small hands and situated her knee in the girl's lower back, just above the tail bone. A mighty yank and Sarah felt the air rush from her lungs. "Is this really necessary?" she asked. Arulan only nodded. "In my world we wear these things above our clothing and not nearly so tightly." In reply she received a firm stare that reminded her this was not her world. More obediently she stepped into the dress. Arulan had begun regretting her spouting off at Sarah the way she had. Once the zipper was drawn over the length of her back and the dress took shape around her, the elf said, "As perfect as a doll, you are."

Fanning out her skirt, Sarah gave a tiny curtsey and said, "Thank you."

"I'm sor..."

"We still need to do something with my hair Arulan. Let's not waste time on words which don't need saying."

"Yes, milady," the elf smiled.

Watching in the mirror as her locks were hoisted into the combs, Sarah's mind started going back to the first time she'd worn them. The king had sorted his way through the crowds in an arousing game of cat and mouse, culminating in his pulling her gently, yet purposefully, into his arms. She caught her neck going limp and snapped her head straight again.

"Are you alright?" Arulan asked concerned.

"Fine," Sarah replied. Her manicured hand snapped to her throat and she cried out, "My necklace!"

"I've got it right here," Arulan reassured her as she picked up the black embroidered choker and fastened it around Sarah's neck. "It looks good on you."

It felt good. Sarah hadn't managed to make much sense out of it, not yet anyway, but that feminine energy she'd picked up the first time she held the charm seemed to mesh somehow with her own making the adornment feel as if it were always meant to grace her neck. She didn't let on to the elf, merely thanked her for the compliment and asked, "Now what?"

Looking at the clock in the corner showed it to be a quarter of five. 'Now nothing,' Arulan thought. "We wait," she said flatly. "Turgomon will come to take you to the ballroom entrance. Outside in the hall you'll remain perfectly still, poised just the way you are now." Sarah was standing perfectly straight, her hands folded before her, hung elegantly as the thumbs intertwined. The doors will have been enchanted to open promptly at five. The music will stop, a horn will blow. You'll wait until you hear them announce your name, then you sweep into the room. All eyes will be on you. His majesty will ascend the stairs," Arulan's face took on a dreamy look, "bow and offer you his elbow. You'll accept, after a curtsey, and he will lead you to a receiving line where you will be formally introduced to the guests." Sarah had begun to get a bit dreamy herself. "When the introductions are over. You'll be seated for dinner. As it was the other night, you'll be at the left hand of the king. After the meal, your first dance will be with Jareth. At first, it will be just the two of you on the dance floor." The expression on the mortal's face changed a bit with this piece of information, "Now, don't get nervous. It'll only be for a minute. A chance for everyone to approve of what they see between the two of you. A critical time for you to be your most aware of what Atofina has taught you. To indicate their approval, the others will begin to dance around you. When the song ends, you'll bow to one another and immediately leave each others' company. Turgomon and Deverell will keep your company for much of the rest of the evening. As I've said, given the king's approval, you may dance with the other men at the function, but always seek his approval first."

A gentle knocking at the door interrupted Arulan's to do and not to do list. Turgomon had come to take Sarah away. She met him at the door, took his elbow, inhaled deeply and stumbled as they started down the hall. The king's servant helped her to her feet and smiled into her scowling stare, "As long as you do that up here, no one cares."

Sarah let her expression soften, adjusted her dress and continued on what felt like a very long walk to the ballroom


	23. Chapter 23

**CHAPTER TWENTY THREE - IN A SEA OF FACELESS IMITATORS**

When they reached the door, Sarah could still hear music being played. "It'll be just about another thirty seconds or so. You look lovely milady." She didn't feel lovely. The corset itched and her stomach was queasy. "Don't be nervous, I shall meet you again inside." Turgomon kissed the back of her hand before ducking into the shadows. Sarah adjusted her posture and breathed deeply when she heard the music stop. As promised the doors opened slowly and on their own. It was mere seconds of silence, but it may as well have been an hour. Her eyes scanned the crowd, never moving her head. Jareth looked solidly at her, his face expressionless. Off in the back of the room she saw Tiberon fixed on her as well, his face, far less stoic, smiling at Sarah in awe of her appearance. The blare of a horn caused all heads to snap in her direction.

"The Lady Sarah Williams of the Aboveground," a page announced.

Her own name sounded wrong, odd at best, being announced before 200 or so attendees. As Arulan promised, the king began to ascend the stairs. His frock coat was black with silver highlights that not only matched her dress, but sparkled making him look as though he had been dusted with ground diamonds. Beneath his coat a high collared shirt that had an ascot at the neck. Sarah dared not let her eyes dip below the waist for fear of what might distract her there. The silver highlights scattered about his hair made it shine almost a platinum blonde. Jareth bowed to her and extended his elbow. Sarah curtsied in return and fed her slender arm through his.

Before them, in the heart of the ballroom, a few dozen royals formed a receiving line. Among them were the members of the Triumvirate, Gandor and Tiberon. Others remained strangers to her. The Cleric was the first to greet Sarah. She tentatively let go of Jareth's arm, but he remained protectively near her as he would until he was forced to leave her side.

"Milady, you are even more beautiful than I remember from just a week ago," he said as he lay a kiss upon her cheek.

"And you are even more charming." The Sage and the Gavel were more formal with their greetings.

Each of the Representatives greeted her formally as well. Gandor slipped in a little wink, but under the watchful eye of the Triumvirate he was careful. Even Tiberon, brazen as he had been behind the back of the king, was on his best behavior, giving her little more than a smile in the way of extra attention. Elbereth, Representative of the Northwest sector, seemed pleasant enough. As his sector had been, he gave off a welcoming vibration. Sarah liked the way his eyes seemed as blue as the sky. His hair was salt and pepper, his smile warm and sincere. Ranofyr, on the other hand, had stark red hair. He was waif and gaunt, the discoloration around his eyes fanning straight back under his temples making his eyes seem like tiny slits. When Ranofyr greeted Sarah, he let his eyes go wide at the sight of her. Around his pupils his eyes appeared almost red, nearly glowing. Sarah blinked, sure it was a trick of lights or a figment of her imagination. Upon a second look, she found them more auburn. Jareth's hand fell to the small of her back and guided her along the line, but Ranofyr kept his eyes locked with Sarah's. They hinted red once more before she looked away.

She was introduced to the royals. Darien, Jareth's grandfather and his wife Arianna. After everything Atofina had told her, it gave Sarah chills when Darien took her hand. Arianna had a watchful eye on him. Sarah greeted him rather mechanically, caught between the feeling his presence gave her and the uncomfortable stare of his wife. The former queen was not a particularly attractive woman, seeming to be far more senior to Darien than she actually was, but despite that she gave off a warm and friendly energy when she took Sarah's hand. While the other royals were not true descendants of the king, they were either in some way connected to the Triumvirate or the Representatives and through that association, looked at upon more favorably than commoners. At the end of the receiving line Deverell and Turgomon waited. As she completed her last hand shake, Turgomon took up her arm and smiled, "I told you you'd be just fine."

"Indeed you did," she smiled. With a guide to either side, Sarah followed Jareth into the dinning room. The king held out her chair and she took her seat to his left. Promptly at six the buffet was prepared and everyone was invited to fill their plates. Even though she was starving from eating so lightly at breakfast and lunch, Sarah was careful not to overdo it. Jareth's last minute idea to hold a buffet worked quite well. He and Sarah, along with the Triumvirate, the Representatives and Jareth's personal staff made up the main table. Several large tables were laid out in a U-shape before the main table and the buffet between them where everyone could easily help themselves to seconds.

Sarah leaned over to Jareth, "Where's your great grand father? Shouldn't he have been invited?"

"He was," Jareth said quickly. "Please, just eat."

"I'm sorry."

"It's quite alright. It truly isn't appropriate for us to be speaking during the meal. It's frowned upon." Jareth's eyes remained on his plate, his lips moved as little as was necessary to allow the words to pass.

"I see," but she didn't mean the words she said.

Turgomon was at the right side of the mortal, "Don't worry Sarah. It's just the formality of being king."

"I'm not worried," Sarah proclaimed as she straightened her spine and turned her attention to the meal. When she rose her head again, she noticed everyone else busily chatting amongst themselves. Sarah longed to be part of any of the number of conversations which filled the air incoherently around her. Silence disturbed her more than any noise most people were more commonly irritated by. By the time dessert was served, Sarah thought she would claw her skin off. Each of Jareth's wait staff presented a Baked Alaska to the cluster of guest to which they'd been assigned. As they all set the desert a flame, there was cheering and clapping followed by a few exchanges of surprise. The production, she thought, would sustain her until the dancing begun. Mercifully, the desert by its nature required quick eating.

When the meal concluded, Jareth excused the guests as well as Deverell and Turgomon. Back in the ballroom the guests began to don their masks. Each was extravagant, whether it wound round their heads or perched on a pole they carried about with them. Most had horns or long noses. Many of the men wore hats. They chatted in small groups as they awaited the entrance of the king. Sarah and Jareth put their masks in place before they joined the others.

Sarah stood at the doorway, her silver mask on a pole held tight in her sweaty palm. It was a simple mask, made to cover the eyes and nose, trimmed with black. Jareth came up behind her snaking his arm along her waist. The extended nose of the mask he wore brushed along her cheek as he purred into her ear, "Guess who?"

Lifting the pole so that Sarah's mask covered her face, she turned and replied, "I would know you anywhere, by the rhythm of your breath, the wrinkle at the corner of your mouth when you smile, even the gait of your stride, each is a siren that blares your name."

The king had not expected such an intimate answer from the mortal. His entire demeanor thrown, he quickly turned her around and suggested, "We best not keep our guests waiting." He extended his elbow to her. Using his magic to cast open the doors, he marched them through, leading Sarah to the center of the dance floor, wound one arm about her waist and took her hand in his.

The music they played had no words, but it was good for waltzing, lots of strings and whole notes that made the box step seem appropriate. A couple of minutes into the song, most everyone around them had taken to the dance floor. All but the Triumvirate, who had politely excused themselves after dinner, Tiberon who stood against the west wall, with one foot propped behind him and some redheaded woman whose name Sarah didn't know, but whom she had caught staring at her over Jareth's shoulder. She knew the woman wasn't a royal because she hadn't been in the receiving line. Feeling confident, Sarah let her fingers slide up the back of the king's neck. Jareth shook his head until she returned her hand to his shoulder. After thirty seconds or so, she tried sliding her hand onto his chest. To her dismay there was no open chest there for her to touch, not even the gentle thumping of his heartbeat. Through gritted teeth he warned her, "Sarah, you mustn't behave this way, not here, not in front of these people.

"No one's even paying attention to us anymore," she told him using her thumb to stroke along his own, down over the heel of his hand.

"Sarah, please, for a multitude of reasons, which I'd rather not discuss right now, we absolutely cannot behave this way."

"I think I would rather discuss them. Right now." Despite how furious she was with him, her tones remained dull, low enough that no one heard them but him.

"You think you would, but trust me when I..."

"Trust you? I've grown weary of this constant need to trust you. When are you going to begin trusting me?"

"When you start obeying the rules I've set forth for you then perhaps I can begin to trust you."

"Rules," her voice had gotten a bit loud. Before going on she cleared her throat and took a deep breath. "What happened to the mighty Goblin King? The one who stole me out of my brother's room at night and banished me to his maze. The one who broke every rule, reordered time, defied the principles of physics and did it all for me."

Jareth hardened his gaze, "He allowed himself to love a girl who refused to love him in return. Then he spent fifteen years watching his kingdom destroy itself and now," he tightened his grip on her in anger, "now, this Goblin King you seem to miss so much is desperately trying to keep that from happening again."

"So our relationship, it's what, just a duty for you?"

"We have no relationship!" Jareth looked around to see if anyone had heard him raise his voice. Only Deverell looked in their direction and the king felt fairly safe that he was no threat. "We have no relationship. You're little more than one of my servants. That is how these people must see you and in front of these people I can only treat you that way. You're putting everything I've worked for in jeopardy with these games of yours. I understand that you have these feelings which apparently you lack control over."

"Feelings, that I can't control? You know Jareth, you haven't exactly shown a whole lot of restraint yourself, especially in my room last night."

The song had ended with her words. He leaned into her ear as he would have normally done to thank her for the dance, but instead he said roughly, "You have no idea just what kind of control I have exhibited with you." Leaving her standing slack jawed in the middle of the dance floor the king stepped away his wicked grin flashing in the direction of a few of his guests.

Fuming Sarah turned to storm after him, but was quickly caught up in someone's arms. For a second she struggled until familiar violet eyes met hers. "Milady, the king would not take kindly to your chasing after him." Turgomon's black hair was fashioned into a pony tail at the nape of his neck. He wore a high necked red shirt held in place by a black and red quilted vest. From waist to knees his breeches covered black tights which peaked out only briefly before meeting the tops of his boots.

"I don't much give a shit what the king would take kindly too."

Tiberon smiled gleefully at her words. "Would you care to accompany me to the gardens?"

"I'm sure that would rank much higher on the list of things to which the king would not take kindly to than my chasing after him."

"True," Tiberon conceded. "Still, I think you and I got off to a rather misconstrued start, so I'll ask you once more, would you care to accompany me to the gardens?"

"I would love nothing more."

The night air was clean and clear. A million stars filled the patch of sky above their heads. Tiberon sat on one of the stone benches in the garden. "Won't you join me?"

"I'm fine here," she told him as she stood beneath an archway covered in miniature roses. She was still angry at the way Jareth behaved, for the things he had said, but being outside where there were no walls was helping those feelings to pass. She looked in through the French doors of the music room. "Who does he think he is anyway?"

"King?" Tiberon offered matter of factly.

"Exactly, king," she spat. "Well I suppose he is king, but that doesn't give him the right to, well yeah, I mean I guess it does, but not to me. I'm not part of his kingdom, not one of his subjects and most certainly not his servant!"

"What is it that has you so angry, milady?"

"Nothing," she lied knowing that Jareth would not be happy to have his laundry aired. "I just get so tired of him acting like he's king all the time."

"I see," he said amused.

Sarah immediately followed on another tirade of things which irritated her about the king and the Underground as she sat beside the Representative. Only half listening, Tiberon leaned back, plucked a violet from the garden and placed it across Sarah's lap. For a moment she stopped her ranting and just looked at the flower. Cautiously she reached for the stem and lifted the fragrant petals to her nose. It was light and sweet. "Thank you," she managed with a smile. "Look at me, missing the dancing and making you miss it too."

"Nonsense, he may be the only king around here, but he's not the only one with magic." Tiberon threw open one of the French doors and cast a spell that started the piano playing. "May I?"

Forgotten was the fey who terrified her in the woods. Tiberon had become something magical here at the castle. Sarah curtsied and took his hand. She knew it was wrong, completely against Jareth's wishes. If Deverell or Turgomon were to find her they'd surely convey the king's strong opposition. He pulled her close into his arms, just the way Jareth had the night before. She felt her body start to respond. 'Christ!' she thought. 'Was it the touch she was responding to or the memory of Jareth?'

Tiberon noticed the far away look in her eyes. "We'll have our own ball, if we need to. I could dance with you like this until dawn." His mouth was pressed against her ear. Sarah pulled back from him, his words sounding all wrong to her. Not just that he shouldn't be saying them, no, indeed, it went much further than that. He shouldn't be feeling them. They barely knew one another, certainly not well enough for him to express such eagerness for her close company. The fey only looked at her, through her more like, in a way that Sarah had decided only fey could do. "Something wrong?" he asked.

"Milady," Deverell called from inside the music room. He walked quickly to her side, "Milady, the king is beside himself wondering where you've been. Allow me to escort you inside." Sarah's arm fed through the young fey's and she followed him willingly. Her eyes met Tiberon's once more. With a pleading glance that showed she was torn between staying and going, Sarah lifted the violet to her nose and inhaled deeply before tossing it back to Tiberon.

Back inside the ball, Sarah stood between Deverell and Turgomon, feeling trapped again. Jumbled words echoed in her head. Something about Jareth's stare, being able to feel his eyes on you even standing in a crowded room. When she focused again, she saw those mismatched eyes, narrowed on her from across the room. Sarah tried to force a smile, but the king kept his face blank as a canvas. As she continued to match his gaze, Sarah saw a familiar redhead snake her way toward the king. The dress, the mask, she had seen them earlier as the woman stared on at she and Jareth during their dance. Draping her arm over his shoulder, the red head spun in front of the king, her right hand raising up to trace his jaw line. In shock Sarah watched as Jareth returned the woman's smile, seemingly pleased by her affections. "Sonofa..."

"Milady, care you to take the dance floor with me?" Turgomon asked already beginning to take her into his arms.

"No, thank you," she refused him, attempting to brush his hand from about her waist. "I haven't the king's permission to dance with you."

"The king's approval doesn't seem to be all that important to you if you ask me and besides, Jareth has already given both Deverell and myself his permission to entertain you." Turgomon drug her onto the dance floor with him. "Has it occurred to you that you might be overreacting, even misunderstanding the things his majesty says and does at a function such as this one?"

"Though I don't proclaim to know all there is to know about royalty or fey, I think that I do understand basic English, thank you."

"But do you understand the meaning behind the words you hear?"

"I know what he meant."

"Do you? How well do you know him Sarah? What's his favorite food? How old was he when he became king? What was the name of his first horse?"

"I...I...I don't know," she stammered. For the first time Sarah realized that despite the physical relationship they shared, she knew nothing about him. Nothing more than he was very appealing and incredibly talented in bed. That he wore magic well, like a second skin. His spells sometimes so graceful it seemed as though the universe moved at his command. That he, like anyone, had a mother and a father, but all else remained a mystery.

As they danced, Tiberon approached Deverell, "So, you were sent to assist the king?"

"There is much to be done in anticipation of the renewal of the Underground," Deverell said flatly, already getting a bad vibe about him.

"I have boots older than you boy. Have a little respect."

"And I have trapped fire fairies with more brains than you," he muttered before walking away.

In the meanwhile, Jareth had begun to dance with the redhead who had been flirting with him. They hadn't taken more than two turns by the time Sarah noticed. "Who is she?" Sarah asked Turgomon.

The king's advisor tried a simple answer first. "Her name is Maeve."

It was the Underground which had taught Sarah how to ask questions and she was relentless when she wanted answers. "I didn't ask you her name. I asked you who she was."

"She is a fey who once shared his majesty's company, years before your name was ever heard here."

She swallowed hard at his response, "They were lovers?" Jareth was centuries old and the fact that he had a lover before he'd met her should have surprised her no more than the knowledge that woman had been to his bed since. Yet, it gnawed at her as she drew the comparison that while she had never had anyone awaken the desire within in her before Jareth all those years ago. Others since, but none before and though their relationship had been a platonic one, the young and impressionable girl had been deeply effected by the tension that surrounds a man who could so easily turn charm to sex appeal in the blink of a mismatched eye.

"As a matter of speaking," Turgomon replied.

"How long?" In truth, she didn't want to know, but she asked. As if knowing that they had only been together for a short time would somehow ease the butterflies that seemed to flutter about inside her chest. If the king's advisor were to tell her that they had been together for some inconceivable long time by mortal standards, perhaps it would warm her to know that he could have loyalty to a woman.

"I fail to see where any of this is relevant."

Sarah repeated. "How long?"

"A couple of years," the advisor confessed.

'A couple of years,' Sarah thought. 'Jareth had allowed someone to stay by his side for a couple of years, but her, despite these feelings for him she continuously tried to label, she could not remain in his favor for more than a few days, if that.

The song ended and another began. Turgomon bowed to the mortal. Sarah didn't move, not so much as a breath. She watched on intently as Jareth and Maeve continued to dance. A patterned stop that reminded her of mortal line dancing. The pair's eyes locked on one another. Their hands clasped above their heads, fingers entwined, as their arms swept one over the other. Two bodies brushing together in a roomful of curious eyes, but no one more curious than Sarah. The female fey's mask was strung around her head, her thick red curls hiding the cord. The face plate was brownish red, with two large horns that protruded from her temple holding back her stacked ringlets and two wing-like panels that covered the top of her ears. Maeve felt the mortal's eyes upon her and glanced over Jareth's shoulder with a smile and a wink. She whispered something in the king's ear. Jareth turned to look at Sarah who cursed because his face never seemed to give anything away. Drawing her lips into a stiff pout, Sarah turned and left the dance floor tears rising in her eyes. No title had been assigned to the feelings that were welling up inside her, but she thought they might be some strain of jealousy.

"A face as beautiful as this one, should be kept free of things that might mare it," soft black gloves touched her face wiping away the salty droplets that streaked her cheeks.

Seeing Tiberon approach Sarah, Deverell moved again to rescue the maiden. "Leave her make her own mistakes boy. We've got bigger woes which beg our attention. One of the king's guards tell me they've not seen Darien for more than thirty minutes since he asked a servant for directions to the washroom."

"Darien?" Deverell asked.

Pulling him along, Turgomon grumbled, "I haven't the time or energy to go into detail, but he is a dangerous fey and not to be trusted. I will check the rooms on the main floor, you search upstairs. I want him found before the hours up." Looking at the clock against the wall this left them twenty minutes.

Turgomon found Darien in the king's office, sitting at his desk, staring at his own portrait on the wall. "Sir, beg your pardon, but were you lost on your way to the wash room."

"Surely you must know well enough by now that I grew up in these halls, played in them as a child. How is it that I would manage to lose my way in a place I know as well as my own hand?"

"Then I'll dispense with the formality and remind you that no one is permitted in the king's chamber without his presence and invitation."

Darien refused to allow himself to intimidated. "A rule I instituted, I might add."

"One would think you might have a bit more respect for it then."

Darien rose from behind the desk and stalked about the king's assistant with as much authority as Jareth had when he behaved the same way. "I was once the king, in fact, were it not for that incompetent daughter of mine, I would still be king. Were we to talk about respect, boy, I would think it would be yours we'd need to discuss and not mine." He stood before his own portrait, giving a quick glance to the right, he took in the portrait of Corwyn. Lips twisting in a look of disgust, he quickly found more words to share. "But Jareth has everything, doesn't he? I'll bet you he thinks he does? He should. No siblings, no wife, no children. No sons hidden in the shadows, no flight of fancy young daughters with romantic notions. If fate had seen fit to free me of those burdens, I could have been a great king," he turned to face the advisor, "twice what my grandson is, three times my father."

"My father was your father's advisor, and for a short time yours as well," Turgomon reminded him. "According to the tales I've been told you were nowhere near a fraction of the fey Oberon was and even less worthy than a goblin to wear the crown."

"There is a saying that one should believe half of what they see, less of what they read and none of what they hear. Your father was dismissed from my employ for treason, a crime I could have had him executed for. Seems to me you ought to be thanking me."

"I'll thank you to leave the king's office and return to the ballroom immediately, otherwise I shall be forced to call the guards and let them see to your removal. Being that you were once king, I will concede the choice to you."

"Why make such a case out of an old man who wanted but a moment to remember a life which had passed him by?" The viper drew back his fangs and whimpered like a toothless lion now. "Has serving your king gotten so mundane that you seek out these meager entertainments?"

"My service to his majesty leaves me quite fulfilled."

"And occupied, I would imagine," Darien watched as interest filled Turgomon's eyes. "His prize has returned to the Underground, his mortal back by his side. Why with his spine softened I'm sure most of his royal duties are falling to the shoulders of others. Distracted by love, if that's what he wishes to call it, he grows lax, he becomes weak."

"The kingdom is as strong as it has ever been," Turgomon said authoritatively.

Darien contradicted him, "My boy, you have no idea just how weak this kingdom has been since it's conception." That said he left the room, dignity in tact and returned on his own volition to the ball room.

Smiling weakly up at the Representative, Sarah replied, "I really have no idea why I'm crying."

"Neither do I," Tiberon folded his arm about Sarah's waist and waltzed her back onto the floor. He held her tightly to him. Sarah hoped the king was watching, hoped he would see her dancing with someone he didn't approve of, someone he certainly hadn't given permission to. Before long she had actually begun to enjoy herself, allowing the fey to spin her this way and that until she felt nearly drunk. No longer was she concerned with being held too tightly or the feel of his breath on her neck, these moments were about the music and being completely lost in it. Even as the song changed, she didn't notice.

The deep dream state she slipped into made it all the more unexpected to hear Jareth's voice suddenly very close. "May I cut in?" And with that the mortal felt all too sober.

"Your highness, you have a great number of female guests here tonight waiting for you to dance with them, surely the one dance you've shared with Sarah was plenty."

Glowering down at the Representative, Jareth coolly proposed "Allow me to rephrase my question then, I am cutting in, what would you like to do about it?" Somewhere inside, Sarah smiled, happy to see him fighting over her. Jareth grabbed her roughly by the waist and pulled her to him. "This mortal is mine. If you so greatly desire one, go find your own." And so the feud begun, the typical male ritual of not allowing other males to 'play with their toys' as it were. A ritual that Sarah now knew was not confined to the males Aboveground.

Before backing down Tiberon raised his eyebrow at the king. With a quick bow he thanked Sarah for the dance and blew her a kiss. When the Representative had achieved an adequate distance, Jareth asked her, "What do you think you're doing?"

"I was dancing." Her words had an air of innocence about them.

"You're trying to ruin me."

"Ruin you?"

"Yes. Conducting yourself the way you were with Tiberon and so openly. Why before long you'll have ever royal in the room convinced that I'm incapable of controlling a mortal." His words were sour as he spoke to her.

"You expect me to let these people believe that you control me?"

"Of course," he said nonchalantly as though it came as a surprise to him, her being upset at the situation.

"Is that what you meant telling Tiberon that I was yours? Some macho I've got two woman and you can't have any? A game of control and possession, won by the boy who owns the castle."

"If that is how you choose to look at it," he looked down and reminded her in a wary tone, "You agreed to these conditions when I posed them to you on our way back to the castle." Her eyes dimmed as she conceded, "Now it's nearly eleven, do you think you could possibly manage to behave yourself for just an hour longer?"

"I'm not running up to my room when the clock strikes twelve Jareth, I'm not a child."

"You will address me properly."

"Were I to address you with the title on my mind just now, it would be most unpleasant. Now, I believe you've left the lovely Maeve to stand alone over there. Best you run to her before she takes some new lover."

"Is that what this is about? You're jealous?" Nearly smiling the king waited for her answer.

"I'm no such thing. You think you can send Deverell and Turgomon to babysit me, but you've given them so many other tasks this evening that they haven't been much of a challenge to avoid or escape. I'll tell you what this is about. You want to be able to tell me that we have no relationship, but you also want to keep me from having a relationship with anyone else. Where I come from, I'm of legal age. I was told that I needed to repair this world, but I was never told I had to forget where I come from."

"I don't much care who you see as long as it doesn't endanger my kingdom. Trust me... I'm sorry...I mean take my word for it, Tiberon will endanger my kingdom. I forbid you to see him."

"You forbid me," she laughed. "You have no..."

"Let's not go through this again." Jareth rose a finger to her lips. Even as fury continued to drive the blood pounding through her veins, Sarah admitted to a tingle at his touch.

"You have no right to forbid me to do anything," she finished.

"May I cut in?" Darien asked sneaking up on them as the song ended. Jareth eyed him in his gold and white attire, layer upon layer of rich silk, still dressing as if he were king. The outermost layer a golden frock coat which bore the Triumvirate's insignia, a symbol which he wasn't worthy to wear, but one that for whatever reason he felt a kinship to. When he held the title of king, he had it embossed on everything from letterhead to bed linens. Perhaps he felt as if it brought him some measure of security, with him being a marked man and all. The white tights which escaped his knee length golden breeches met with fantastically ornate golden ankle boots which made him appear ridiculous, but he wore them anyway, with the same pride and arrogance he'd always shown, somehow fooled into believing that he was truly better than anyone who shared the space around him.

"Ask her," Jareth replied distastefully before marching off.

Sarah did accept the dance with Darien, if for no other reason than to irritate Jareth a little more. As Jareth left the dance floor, he met his advisor. Turgomon was coming to tell him about his run in with the former king when he became distracted at the sight of Darien with the mortal in his arms. "Your majesty, we cannot allow him access to the girl."

"Leave her be. If she wants to dance with the devil, let her have her fun. Since she doesn't wish to heed my advice, perhaps it is best I let her learn for herself." Jareth walked off in the direction of another of his guests.

Turgomon searched the room for any sign of Deverell, but it seemed as if he had yet to return from his sweep of the upstairs. The advisor followed the king, "Beg pardon your grace, but might I request a word with you."

Jareth excused himself from his guest, "Yes Turgomon, you have something to say to me."

"Indeed your grace, although I wonder if we shouldn't leave the room first."

A quick look around reminded the king that his mortal was still in his grandfather's arms. "No, no," he said clearly, but quietly. "I may have sworn off chaperoning the mortal, but as of yet I have not lifted your order to do so."

"Yes your grace," Turgomon positioned himself carefully in a spot where he could both carry on private conversation with the king while keeping one eye forever on the girl. "For some time this night, your...I mean to say Sir Darien wandered away from the ballroom."

"Where did he wander to?" Jareth asked with great curiosity.

"Your office my lord, I found him there only moments ago."

The king did little to hide his fury. "What did he want in my office?"

Turgomon smiled and feigned a laugh as he noticed a few guests look their way. "Your majesty, I believe he has drunk more than twice his fill and in an act of reflection sought the room for all the comforts it once gave him. An old fool as he were who may be close to losing his mind." The advisor paused in his analysis before continuing, "He spoke of your love for the mortal, of the weakness it created within you and the vulnerability it brought to the kingdom."

"Darien wouldn't know love if it crawled out of the black hole in his chest where the Supreme One forgot to place a heart and bit him on the end of his nose which his eyes haven't seen passed in more than a century. I am not weak and this kingdom is not vulnerable. Furthermore, damn any fey," he glanced at the twirling couple on the floor, "or mortal for that matter that dares to suggest otherwise. Bring them on if they have the courage to fight me."

"Your grace, now is not the time to raise you ire, it's best we discuss the details of this another day." Turgomon bowed to take his leave.

Jareth took his arm in a stiff grip, "There is nothing to discuss. Let them say what they will, let them think what they may. My grandfather, the royals, the Representatives, it matters very little to me what their opinions are. In two moons time, this kingdom, my kingdom will be restored and I will be free of all that has hindered me so long. Then they may come in droves, for I will defend my lands and my castle with each breath I hold. Nothing else I have is worth fighting for. Nothing." The proclamation was stern, believable, kingly, but Turgomon had to wonder whom it was that the king was trying to convince. His eyes did not meet his advisor's eyes when he spoke and though it was hardly a speech to be made aloud, it lacked the conviction it should have had. Jareth's mind was elsewhere and his advisor knew that, he just didn't know where.

While they danced, the former king had been polite for the most part. As Sarah had been warned, Darien had a roaming eye and wandering hands. More than once she caught him conversing with her chest and once she thought his hand dipped a little too low from her hip, but she managed to remedy these situations with a shift of weight or a clearing of her throat. He asked her an enormous load of questions. Everything from what was seemingly innocent, "How are you enjoying your stay in the Underground?", to the overtly sexual, "Has my grandson made proper arrangements for your stay or are you bedding in his suite?" His reputation had preceded him and if she were to be fully honest, the depth of his query didn't shock Sarah. In fact, it was easily apparent how a woman could fall for his charismatic charm, not to mention, he was quite handsome, even at his advanced age.

"You know my grandson fancies you quite a lot," he said as another song began, ignoring Sarah's attempt to curtsey and excuse herself.

"Coulda fooled me," she huffed, forgetting her manners for a moment.

Darien smiled at her mortal outburst. "No really," he continued, "It's as plain as the nose on his face, the one beneath the mask." Sarah smiled thinking it silly that he found the need to clarify his analogy.

"You might think so, but let me assure you, we have no relationship," to coin Jareth's phrase.

"You sound much like the man who fell in love with my daughter. He too doubted her love at first."

"You must miss your daughter very much," Sarah offered.

Darien's eyes expressed the emotions he did not have. They told a bogus tale of love and loss of grief and bereavement as his better judgment fought his truthful tongue, winning out to answer with a simple, "Indeed." He turned her about the dance floor a few times and when the anger at the mention of his daughter had passed he spoke again, "But I see her now when I look at you."

"I do not wish to argue with someone whom I know so little of, certainly I hate to disagree with the former king, but you must be mistaken. I have seen your daughters portrait and I pale to her by comparison."

"You have her same raven hair and when I see it pulled back in her combs," Darien swept over her mane with the hand that had been holding hers. If only he had pursued his talents in acting with half the fervor he pursued the crown, he could have blazed the stages of more than one kingdom acquiring accolades like some collected berries in the wood, by the bushels and usually very sweet. "These were her favorites, hand crafted silver made by the finest elfish silversmith's in the realm. A present for her on the day she took the throne. And this," Darien's hand surfed over the hollow of Sarah's neck, his fingers supporting the charm that hung from the embroidered black band encircling her neck, "When Ian was given the king's necklace, he had this crafted for his wife, so that no matter where she traveled they would always know where she belonged and to whom."

"A dog collar?" Sarah asked.

"I'm sorry. My experience with mortal's is much more limited than most of the royals I'm afraid."

"A branding mark. Something to let other's know where she belonged," she paused, "and to whom."

Inside he grinned, content with the thought he had placed in her head, but just to be certain he added, "Fey, especially those who hold coveted positions in the Underground have that habit, seeing as how their woman are much sought after."

"I've always found it rather amusing that the woman bare the brand while the men are openly permitted to philander to their liking, choosing from commoners and courtesans alike to satisfy their urges, turning to their wives only when they find it necessary for the production of an heir." It was Arianna's voice that whispered to him, loud enough for Sarah to hear. She didn't make eye contact with the mortal, only spoke her piece and carried on her way to the bar.

"Milady, I should take my leave, there are many other younger men here tonight with whom I'm certain you would rather keep company. Thank you for the dance," he bowed. Sarah curtsied and returned to Turgomon's side along the wall.

"I've just been made aware of the most interesting thing Turgomon, but since I've been warned not to put my faith in the source of this information, I'm asking you. Tell me your honest reply, this head piece and the necklace, were they the Leanan Sidhe's?"

"Why do you ask milady?"

"You were her advisor, were they the Sidhe's?"

"Aye milady," he answered.

"Is it true she wore the necklace as a brand?"

"'Tis a mortal custom to wear a ring, one which it is my understanding announces to all others that the lady is spoken for." Patiently he waited for her confirmation of this fact.

"As does the man wear a band that says the same," she spoke hotly.

"Well, milady, here it became a custom of the royals to fit their woman with a piece of jewelry all the same, but as I'm sure you've noticed, many of the fey wear gloves, making it only fitting to place the sign about a maiden's neck, where it can be prominently displayed."

Sarah's blood set to boiling once more. 'How dare he mark me,' she thought as her eyes sought out the king who was busy talking to two men who seemed very old and yet were in fact, older than Sarah could conceive. Beginning a course that would end at his side, her tiny feet carried her across the polished floor.

As if his heightened senses anticipated her arrival, Jareth had already excused himself by the time Sarah reached him. Before she could speak, he turned and asked, "How might I help you milady?"

"This," she said as her fingers struggled with the latch on the embroidered band, "I want it off. I won't wear your brand one second more."

"My brand?"

"To think you would tell me we have no relationship and then send me out with a mark to tell all other's I was yours!"

Jareth enjoyed a good laugh at this, "Milady, I know not where you get such a yarn from, but surely I would like this storyteller to share more of his tales with me. That is no brand as you say, it is more of a tag, to be certain that others know you are my property. It is as much for my benefit as for your protection and I would think long and hard before removing it."

The words of the king only made her more angry. "You won't be satisfied until you've made me just like her."

"Who?"

"Your mother. First her combs, then her necklace and perhaps when you've driven me to hate you as much as she hates you, you'll lock me away in room no bigger than the one you built for her where I can spend eternity."

"Sarah, the last thing I want is for you to be like my mother," it surprised her the honesty in his words, the conviction with which he said them, but most of all the solemn look her taunt had left on his face. "It seems as though you are bent to not believe a word of honesty I speak tonight and yet, you put your faith in all my airs when you should know the difference between who I am and who I must profess to be," he looked her over. "Or perhaps it is I who has put to much faith in what you have said." She returned his gaze with one of her own, laden with confusion at his cryptic words. "You spoke earlier of how easily identifiable I am to you, perhaps I believed you too quickly when you spoke."

The clock chimed twelve while they stood and stared at one another. Deverell reentered the ballroom, somewhat put off that Turgomon had not found him and let him know that the search had been called off. Quickly he went to the king's side, "Your majesty, should I see the girl to her room."

"You may take her to the main hall, ring for Arulan who will take her to her room. It would be most inappropriate for you to see her to her room."

"Yes your grace," he replied.

Sarah curtsied. Jareth returned with a low bow. "Thank you for a most interesting evening. If you don't mind, I think I would like to return to my room."

"As you wish," the king told her, knowing full well that she was compromising for him. Jareth knew woman well. Well enough to say for certain, this was not the last he would hear of this night or it's events, but he was glad that at least for the time being she'd let the matter lie. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the ballroom doors close, her on the other side, safe from the characters who remained.

Deverell and Turgomon were both strongly reprimanded. In no uncertain terms the king demanded they not allow Darien or Tiberon to leave the ballroom until they were escorted to their coaches and even then, he asked to have a sweep of the grounds before the castle was locked downed. He expected that with everyone having seen the mortal and her subsequent early departure the party would soon wrap up. As was customary in the Underground, little went according to schedule. The guests remained for several hours after Sarah was taken to her room. Jareth in the meantime did his best to escape Maeve, but she was clever, conveniently bumping into him at every turn. "What's the matter Jareth, did I upset the mortal?"

"What does it matter?"

"Come dance with me?" she plied, tugging at his arm.

"I don't feel like dancing."

"Aw, Jareth, you used to be fun."

At her reference he grew sentimental, "Not enough for you as I recall it."

Maeve swatted a hand against his chest, "Nonsense darling, I was young and foolish. I had a case of cold feet that you overreacted to. You fey are always thinking that sort of thing is reserved for the male of the species when I can tell you that it happens to the women as well."

"I asked you to marry me and you slept with my defense officer."

"Emanon meant nothing to me. I was confused, frightened at the thought of being your queen. Worried that I might not be able to satisfy you," her pleading eyes sparkled as she added, "outside the bedroom that is." Her hands found his and placed them on her hips. Maeve took his face in her palms and stared intently into his eyes. Tiberon watched from where he stood on the other end of the ballroom, impressed at how well the redhead did what was expected of her while he wished she would have given this performance while Sarah was in the room. "Were you to ask me today, my reaction would be very different."

"Please Maeve," he asked sternly, placing her hands back at her side and straightening his coat, " I've gotten rather used to being alone."

"Gotten used to it on your own or been forced to deal with the sentence handed you by others." Her lips drifted near his neck, her rose red lipstick threatening to stain his ascot.

"'Tis not my nature to allow others to make my choices for me," he proclaimed. Not the king's face, nor his body responded to Maeve's forwardness. "As 'tis not my nature to allow other's to take advantage of me."

"Used to be that I was expected to take advantage of you," she pointed out.

"Yes well, with age comes wisdom. Let's not dwell upon what existed once in the far gone past."

"If you ask me, you've got the same problem your mother had." He looked on at her curiously, "You've ruined your tastes by succumbing to a mortal."

Jareth would have chastised her for telling a lie, but she had spoken the truth. In the same way his mother quested for love that was extraordinary, he too went in search of the woman who could make even his fairytale life something other worldly. Once he thought it would have been Maeve. She was the first to turn his head when he was much older than most fey who had already known the love of a woman, the beautiful woman before him took the king in her stride and taught him much for which other woman had been very grateful. What he mistook for love was little more than stumbling onto someone he could easily tolerate in an effort to produce an heir that would rid him of the responsibility of the throne. It was she who first earned his trust. She who first broke it.

But that was before. Before he watched the mortal, the one they thought might have been an easy opponent for Jareth. Before he gave Sarah magic and before she used that magic against him. Now she held his soul. For someone like Maeve, someone who knew him intimately once, it was easy to discern. "I'd rather succumb to a city of mortals than revisit a whore's cold bed."

She scowled at him, "No woman, human, fey or otherwise could ever do the things I did for you, the things I did to you. You've just forgotten is all."

Though desperate, it was amusing to see her so dejected, "Well if I've forgotten it, it couldn't have been all that memorable an experience in the first place." He watched as she opened her mouth, but before she could chastise him, he told her, "Please Maeve, my guests are beginning to leave, I have my obligations. It was marvelous to see you, really, let's do it again," Jareth stepped away. Glancing back over his shoulder, he added, "In about 200 years."

"You'll be sorry Jareth," she muttered under her breath. Though he heard, Jareth didn't acknowledge her. Out of earshot her rage continued, "When Tiberon finishes with you, you'll know real loneliness and see if I'm so eager to be with you then."


	24. Chapter 24

**CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR - VISITING THE NORTHEASTERN SECTOR**

Sarah had waited in her gown and slippers, in a chair beside the door which adjoined her room to the king's until shortly after four in the morning when she finally heard him stumble in. She was of good mind to barge in on him and ask what he thought he was proving staying there so long, curious if he had spent the time with Maeve. Instead she stopped her hand just shy of the door knob. On the other side, it was Jareth's intention to look in on what he thought was a sleeping mortal, in hopes that he might give himself the peace of mind he needed for a good night's rest. But his hand stilled as well. They stood with nothing more than a door between them, one that had been built in a metaphor for exactly the situation they had created for themselves. So it would someday occur to wordsmiths in both the Aboveground and the Underground to weave yarns of not just mortal stupidity, but the stubbornness of the fey as well. Crawling into bed, each dissatisfied with how things had been left with the other, they closed their eyes and prayed for a mercifully deep and dreamless sleep to visit them, that the rising of the sun would come late in the morning and the events of the ball somehow made to disappear with this day. Both of them knew that prayers often went unanswered for one reason or another, but they hoped and were thankful that they were still able to do even that.

By the time sleep came, the sun was not far behind. Then it was Arulan, her singsong voice calling them to peel open their eyes and partake of the breakfasts which had been prepared for them. "You're as bad as his majesty is this morning, yet I'd wager you got to bed earlier than he." She was wrong in assuming that. "So tell me," she plopped on the edge of Sarah's bed, "how was the ball." Sarah only shrugged, unsure how to best answer the question being asked of her. "Come now girl, you must have something to tell me."

Everything and yet nothing to tell. She wished she could talk about Maeve, but she feared that would disrupt the relationship Arulan had with Jareth. Sarah wished she could talk about those foreign pangs of jealousy which she seemed to harbor in her, but that too seemed sinfully inappropriate. There was always Darien to talk about, but that led to the combs and the necklace and more that she felt the elf would not appreciate. Or Tiberon, but that would segue to Maeve and the jealousy. 'For what is on it's face an easy question, there is no easy answer,' Sarah thought.

"The food was marvelous," She finally said.

Not fooled by her decoy, Arulan pursued, "So marvelous that you haven't the room for your breakfast and divine enough I gather that you stayed awake all night wondering if you could sneak back to the kitchen unnoticed for a snack, thus explaining why your demeanor is what it is?" Sarah nodded. "What do you take me for? An elf who was born only yesterday? Was it like I told you it would be? That first dance, did you make it through without tripping and falling?"

Oh, that tripping and falling were all she had to worry about now. "It was precisely as you said it would be up to and including the first dance."

"What did they play?"

The mortal shook her head, picking at her food, "I'm afraid I'm not terribly familiar with your music, besides, it had no words."

Arulan smiled, "Not surprising. Words are taken rather seriously in the Underground. If his majesty were to have danced with you to a song which had words, well depending upon the words, it could have been very bad."

Thinking a moment, Sarah's face blushed. The second time they danced there had been words. First she danced to them with Tiberon, got lost in the story of two lovers who hid from one another in a masquerade, denying what they knew was true, playing fools. But it was Jareth who ended the dance with her securely in his arms. "What do you mean it could have been very bad?"

"Well it could show the king's weakness or it could have indicated that he had feelings for you that weren't appropriate given that you are..."

"A mortal?"

Arulan nodded her head, angry that mortals had been so readily accepted as all alike when in fact they were as different as garden gnomes and wood nymphs, but it was always one culture's way to fear and punish that which they could not readily understand, "But truth is you'd be subject to the same scrutiny even if you were an immortal who had not descended from the royal's line."

"Be that as it may, I was not well received. I shouldn't say that. I was received graciously by most who waited in the line to greet me, but aside from Jareth, Deverell and Turgomon, the only ones who would associate with me were Darien and Tiberon."

Catching her head with her palm, Arulan moaned, "No wonder the others shunned you. The two worst apples in the bunch and they end up your escorts for the evening."

"I wouldn't say my escorts?"

"As I hear it from some of the staff, you were seen dancing in the gardens with Tiberon."

"Well if you already know so much, why bother asking me anything?" Sarah was somewhat insulted by Arulan's not telling her sooner that there had been talk among the castle.

"I wanted to give you the chance to tell me that it hadn't happened, but I see now that you cannot."

"It was harmless," the mortal insisted.

The elf looked at her as if to say, 'Nothing Tiberon does is harmless,' but the words never came. "I would be leery of wolves who come bearing violets if I were you."

"And count only upon the king for my safety and my salvation?" she asked rhetorically.

"Jareth has only your best interests at heart."

"Jareth has neither interest nor a heart." Sarah regretted her words before they finished falling from her lips and yet, that was the cruel thing about language, it could not be undone. Sure a romantic would tell you that words could be taken back, forgotten, but they would always have been heard, even if they were forgiven.

Arulan rung her hands, "That isn't so. His majesty has a heart, a generous and a kind one at that. I don't know what it is that makes you stay so blind to that fact."

"I can't be like you. I won't. Dote on his every word, fulfill his commands, all the while watching him use his charm on other women, women like Maeve. Charming them with his fancy words, singing to them with his eyes, touching them with such innocence and chivalry, until they melt in his arms fully surprised at having been seduced starting with their minds and ending in their bodies, effectively enticed from the inside out. And that's only the beginning. When he's done with them, he goes on, another pretty face with bedroom eyes and pouty lips, while the woman he's left behind foolishly believes that she owns some piece of him, some thing which she knows she cannot keep and only prays he will come back for."

Is that what she had thought? That Arulan was one of Jareth's conquests? Kept conveniently about the castle nonetheless. Torn between defending her own honor and explaining Maeve away, the elf stumbled on her words. "Is that what this is about? Maeve was invited last night."

"Yes, Maeve was invited last night." Even Sarah had to admit to the drawl she used to accent the fey's name.

"Oh dear, I bet she put on quite a show for everyone." The mortal's ears perked with interest. "Fitting herself to Jareth's hip, pretending as if she hadn't betrayed him long ago."

"Betrayed him," Sarah asked.

Her lips wanted to explain, but it wasn't their place. "Know this, I have said too much all ready, but what I have said should be enough to comfort you."

"Comfort me? As if I care what women he sees! I'm trying to help you!"

Smiling, Arulan hurried for the door, "Even feelings which we refuse to admit are still felt."

The king lie in his bed, eyes open, but not seeing. His mind jumbled with incongruous thoughts, of Maeve, of Sarah, of Tiberon. All the while he knew they would be leaving for the Eastern sectors come the next morning. If he had been thinking more clearly, he would have gotten out of the bed and set about to training Sarah on how to use her magic, despite the friction between them from the night before. Someone needed to provide some sufficient training around here. Dalkeil had fallen short and Atofina had been no help at all. As ever, the responsibility felt to him. He wouldn't even mention the previous night at all, he'd only walk into her room and demand that she come outside to work.

Arulan interrupted him, "You invited Maeve to the ball? What were you thinking inviting her?"

"I didn't invite anyone to the ball, if you want to scold someone, go and find Turgomon."

"Well whoever did it, how could you allow it?"

"I didn't even look at the invitation list until the night before the party. I was busy overseeing the final touches on her highness' room." It was early and the king had gone to bed late, this confrontation was not what he was expecting first thing in the morning.

"The two of you! Never have I, in all my days, and bless it there have been many of those, seen two people who deserved one another more and yet kept each other at such a distance. Sometimes I wonder if she isn't right, I mean, she's a mortal and being taken from her world..."

"Sarah wished herself here."

"That might be, but still, so far from home, away from everything that seems normal to her, I can almost overlook her foolishness. To boot, she's only known you for about two weeks out of her whole life whereas you have had the opportunity to watch her grow for over fifteen years. Sarah has no idea that she loves you and from what I see, you don't give her much reason."

Jareth sat straight up in his bed, tossing back the duvet as he cast a spell to simultaneously render himself fully dressed. "Precisely why must it eternally be me to give reason to this child?"

"Because, you codgery old fool, you are the one with the advantage."

"And what makes you think this is all worth my effort?"

"Love, true love, is worth any effort we can give it. You know best what a life without love can bring. Would you be so stupid as to let the only woman you have ever loved walk out of your life again, when for all intents and purposes, she should never have been allowed to walk back in?" Arulan wanted to grab him by his squared shoulders and shake him until he saw things the way she did.

Jareth stood, straightening his garments, he asked, "And are you willing to bet your life and everything you have that the mortal has these feelings for me in return?"

"Aye your majesty," she said earnestly.

"Well I am not." He intended to storm off, leave the room, perhaps go and see what Deverell was up to in his training, but he stopped just shy of the door, "I stand to lose my entire kingdom by admitting my feelings for a mortal child whose only going to be here another five weeks Arulan, you must understand why I can't do it."

"But if you knew, knew for certain that she felt the same way, there are things which could be done. You know it's true. You were willing the last time, willing to risk it all."

"Need I remind you how that turned out." Arulan's head hung. It was a reminder she did not need. "Do not put your hopes so deeply in a mortal woman, they are creatures who are seldom certain of their feelings and much else for that matter." Arulan looked at the door after it slammed shut, watching, waiting for him to return. Though she was a hopeless romantic by nature, her faith in the mortal was more than just wishful thinking. Question was, how to convince the king.

"Draw from your boot. That's it. Now, take the blade between your thumb and forefinger, right, right and aim, good, good, and throw." Deverell listened carefully to Dalkeil's instructions and yet when the cold silver left his hand it ricocheted off the wall and fell to the stone floor below.

"Damn," he said.

In the background Jareth chuckled madly, "Dalkeil, perhaps we should just kill him now and spare him the pain later."

"Sire, I didn't realize you'd be coming today."

"Or you'd have given the boy a larger target that he might impress me again?"

"In his defense, your highness, he's not had much rest and it was only his sixth throw."

With a nod of his head, Jareth retrieved the dagger from the training room floor. As effortlessly as he brushed his blonde locks from his eyes, Jareth nimbly took the blade between his finger tips and set it sailing through the air confident that it would land dead center in the bull's eye. Of course it did. "There you have it boy, something for you to aspire to."

"I'm beginning to wish I hadn't taken this job," he mumbled beneath his breath.

The king's finely tuned ears would have heard him had he merely thunk it, "You are free to leave my service at anytime you feel it necessary."

Boldly Deverell approached the king, "I swore a promise to the Cleric. Try as you might to chase me off, but I won't go. Not everyone runs from you, your grace."

"Perhaps you do impress me Deverell," he said nudging his eyebrows. "I say that not so much for my benefit as for yours. I know how much it means to you to hear these words. I only hope what I see in you, the fire I'm impressed by, intimidates our foes. Lord knows, your skills with a dagger won't do it." A firm swat landed the king's left hand on Deverell's shoulder. "Dalkeil, my good man, might I borrow the chap for a bit of my own instruction. I'm leaving with the girl in the morning, he needs to know his way around my office."

"Of course your majesty," Deverell bowed.

Instantly, Jareth transported them to the office. He showed Deverell the ropes, went over what correspondence he should reply to and where everything else should go, what qualified as an emergency and what did not. "Should something come up which you do not feel you can handle, Arulan will know how to reach me. The Triumvirate is requiring the girl to spend a minimum of two days in each sector. Day one and two we'll be in the Northeast, Day three we'll be back at the castle."

"You needn't run home on my account," Deverell said.

The king rose his eyebrows at the young fey, "Yes, well, you're managing without me is not my only concern. The Northeast sector is not a friendly place. I don't wish to expose the mortal to it any longer than is absolutely necessary."

"I see."

"The morning of day four, we'll leave again, this time for the Southeast. We'll not stay more than two days there either. I don't want her with Tiberon any more than she must be."

"I don't know that she would agree with you your grace." Jareth cocked his head to the side, "The lady spent quite a bit of time with the Representative at the ball. Were you to ask me, I would say she rather enjoyed his company."

"I don't believe I asked."

"Yes, your grace."

"Now as I was saying, these are my books. You are welcome to consult any of them. Read them for your own edification if you so desire; however, these," the Goblin King indicated a shelf of leather bound volumes, "are my journals. Neither for your curiosity nor your consultation. You'll find some stationary in the top right drawer of my desk where you can jot down the day's events and when I return I will make the journal entries. Have I made myself clear?"

"Yes, your grace."

Dressing for the day, Sarah chose something simple, an airy yellow shift dress and sandals. For a minute or more she debated tying the medallion about her neck. She looked herself over in the mirror. It wasn't her nature to want to quarrel with anyone, but Jareth pushed her buttons. Best she not push his back she decided, positioning the black band around her throat. As it always happened, she gasped as it changed form into a long golden chain that made the medallion hang just beneath her breasts. Twisting it between her fingers, Sarah tried to focus on the female energy she had felt when she wore the necklace. What vexed her most was that if it was his mother's energy in the necklace, why did it embrace her now, when the Leanan Sidhe had sent Sarah running from her tomb. Thinking about what Darien had told her, about her looking like the Sidhe, made her pulse quicken. Turning away from the mirror, she let the medallion hit against her chest. A new goal drove her as she tried to forget the similarities between her and the king's mother. Much else had happened in just one night's time and frankly, Jareth had avoided her long enough.

Determination drove every stride as she made her way to his office. A small fist pounded on the heavy wooden door. "Come in," the king said sharply, wanting the noise to stop as he swung open the door for his guest. Stumbling through the door came the mortal. "Can I help you?"

She was about to lay into him when she saw Deverell at his side. "I didn't realize you had company."

Jareth clapped his hands together, "I think we were just about done."

"Yes, your grace," Deverell responded.

"You feel prepared?" He put up a hand to stop the young fey from leaving before he was sure.

Deverell met him square in the eye, "Indeed I do."

The king nodded his permission for the young boy to be excused. Then turning his attention to the girl he asked once more, "Now then, you needed something?"

"I wanted to talk to you about your mother's things." Jareth took a seat on the couch, kicking up his legs and crossing them at the ankle. Before Sarah could continue, his fingers interlaced behind his head. "I must admit, I don't particularly feel comfortable wearing this necklace." For how angry she had been last night and STILL this morning to some degree, even Sarah was impressed by her mature calm. "I don't think I like the idea of being anyone's property."

"Let alone mine?" There he went, setting her off as usual. The king sat forward, "Sarah, that necklace does more than claim you as my property. It will protect you from ne'er do wells who would as soon boil a mortal as shake its hand."

"But by that same token am I not marked for any one who wishes to stake the king?"

"There are far fewer persons in this realm who wish to hold my throne than would take advantage of an opportunity to harm a mortal."

"If that's what you say."

Narrowing on her, his eyes grew suspicious, after all she had taken on new acquaintances that were not exactly to his liking. "Have you heard otherwise from your new friend?"

"Who? Tiberon? Really Jareth, you're paranoid. Tiberon has no plans to take over your kingdom."

"Are you certain? Sure it's not on his to do list, right between court mortal and purchase viper for household pet?" When he heard himself, those childish sardonic tones escaping him, the king knew he'd sunk to her level.

"Court mortal?"

"Don't act like you don't know. That's what he's intended since you wound up in his sector your first day here."

Rolling her eyes, Sarah continued her inquiry, "Why would he want to do that?"

"Aside from the fact that you are a very beautiful woman?" When she did not reply, he went on, "As I've told you before, Tiberon and I have never gotten along well. Once, long ago, I professed my love for you, the entire kingdom knew this. In his readiness to smite me, Tiberon must believe that I still love you. At the very least he knows that I am responsible for you while you are in the Underground. Either way, to court you would suit him nicely, to attack me personally or my abilities as king."

"Don't you think you're being a bit dramatic? Everyone who was at the ball last night knows why I'm here, knows the Triumvirate themselves asked me to stay. If someone were to try and stop that, try to make you look foolish, don't you think the Triumvirate would have something to say?"

Eyebrows arching high into his forehead, Jareth narrowed his gaze on Sarah, "The Triumvirate does not rule this kingdom. They've said everything they have to on this matter by saying they were leaving it up to me. Do you question my authority?"

"Question it? No. Believe that it may not be at it's best after your little show last night with Maeve? Yes. You did look a bit distracted last night if you ask me." Her arms folded over her chest satisfied at having found an opening through which to retaliate against his crude comments.

"I danced with a woman and you find that somehow equivalent to your shameless flirtation with my Representative."

"Shameless flirtation!?"

"Yes, taking violets from him in the garden. Dancing with him in the moonlight. Shall I go on?" Embarrassed, she lowered her head. "Not asking my permission to dance with him. Allowing him to hold you so tightly. Maintaining such distinct and prolonged eye contact."

"Enough!" Sarah breathed deeply in and out. It was true. She had done all of those things. What's worse were the thoughts she had, the ideas that he couldn't see that filled her mind while she engaged in all the illicit behavior he could see. "Enough. I admit to being swept up in his charms. I admit to appreciating the fact that someone here felt enough for me to make himself emotionally available."

"You were the one who said you only wanted sex," Jareth reminded.

Sarah sat beside him on the couch. With all the sincerity she could muster when rage filled her from head to toe, she clearly stated, "That is not what I said."

"Then what do you want?" The Goblin King looked at her, breathlessly waiting for her reply. Perhaps Arulan's efforts were not in vain. If she would admit to having love in her heart for him, true and honest love, then he would no longer have to hide, no longer have to deny himself.

"I want you to stop treating me like you own me. I want you to let me make my own choices."

Deflated, he looked away, "I don't see whereas I have much to say about it, do I?"

"No, no you don't," she was hesitant, unsure of what she was saying, desperately trying to make it sound as though she meant the words.

"Well then, if you don't mind, I have work that needs doing before this evening's meal, not to mention things to ready for tomorrow's trip." Jareth remained focused on an ambiguous patch of stone in the fireplace, refusing to meet her stare, even if it burned into the back of his skull like a hot poker.

Regretting now, what she had done, how she had upset him, Sarah tried a kinder tone. "We're going on a trip tomorrow?"

"To the Northeast. Tomorrow you begin your work."

"But, I don't know how. I haven't even had a vision in days, maybe I don't have the magic anymore." Her voice shook with every word.

"As long as you believe you have magic, it will be yours to use." The king's eyes fell upon her, "Unlike most things in your mortal world, magic will never abandon you." In her lap, she felt Jareth's hand cover hers. Closing her eyes she let the electricity run through her body. Every joint, every muscle suddenly alive, overflowing with a force she felt unable to control. From all around her there came a soft glow. "You have much magic left indeed. It was my intention to work with you tonight, teach you how to harness what you feel and direct it where it's necessary, but since you don't seem to be able to remain in my company without provoking me..."

"I didn't provoke you," Sarah jumped to the defensive. The Goblin King only raised an eyebrow at her, wordlessly indicating that she had proven his point on his behalf. "I mean, if it's okay with you, I would prefer you teach me the things you had intended to. Magic, after all, is your area of expertise."

"After dinner then. I'll let you decide where you would like to take the lessons."

"Why not our rooms?" He looked at her with a combination of interest and confusion. "We can work until we're exhausted and not have far to crawl to find our beds."

"I believe I've been asked to allow you to make your own choices." Sarah smiled as she left his office. When the door closed behind her Jareth told himself, "I only hope you continue making the correct ones.

Dinner was a solemn affair. Neither Deverell nor Turgomon had much to say with just recently being reprimanded by the king. Dalkeil and Gribbin only looked at the others wondering what had transpired and between whom. Even the opinionated Arulan kept to herself. On the positive side this hurried dinner along which gave Sarah more time to study magic with Jareth. She sat in her room after the meal had ended. Debating what to wear, she stacked a pile of sample clothing near her bureau. The shift she had worn that day, a different dress, a pair of jeans and sweater, night clothes. All before settling on a sweatsuit the tailor had made based on a description of such a garment which the mortal had provided. Next she decided where she should be sitting when Jareth arrived, the bed, the couch, a chair, the foot locker or the floor. They all had there merits and their drawbacks, but it was the floor that finally won out. It had been nearly two hours since dinner and no Jareth. Sarah decided to do a bit of stretching while she waited.

The Goblin King entered her room through the door in the wall they shared. He found Sarah on the floor in a rearranged sitting area, having moved the table back and out of her way, she sprawled one leg to either side and bent forward stretching her arms over her head. The sweats she wore exposed her midriff leaving the king with a full view of the small of her back and the top of her well rounded hips. Before clearing his throat he eyed her with approval. At the first sound he made, Sarah popped up from her stretch. Her long hair was tied back in a pony tail, pulled back from her clean fresh face. Jareth hated that she constantly appeared attractive to him. To say the least, it was distracting.

"I see you're ready to begin," he spoke once he was sure he had her attention.

Sarah stood, pulling her sweat shirt down until it met the waistband of her track bottoms. "Uh, huh," she said excitedly. The mortal noticed the king was not in his typical attire. He wore loose fitting beige cotton drawstring pants and a V-neck top that almost looked like a doctor's scrubs, only bone white. Traditionally, gloves covered his hands, white this time. Oddly enough his feet were bare. At the sight of this, Sarah smiled. Partially because she found it humorous and partly because his feet were as extraordinarily long as his fingers.

"Well, we're not running any marathon's so you can take off your shoes." He sat on the floor his back to the couch. "Sit facing me," he instructed. "We'll start with some simple concentration exercises." Jareth crossed his legs, resting his elbows on his thighs and allowing his arms to fall palm side up to the floor. Sarah just watched him, entranced by his comfortable attire and peaceful air. "Like this," he said flopping his hands about. Sarah imitated his positioning. "Now close your eyes." For a moment after her lids fell shut, the king continued watching her. "Listen only to the sound of my voice."

'Not really a problem,' she thought as she tuned out the sound of the night breeze coming through the crack she'd left the window open. Jareth had a pleasant lilting that was easy to listen to. He could have read her the phone book and she'd have sat, listening attentively.

"Magic is about working with nature. You're asking the elements to behave in a way they normally would not. In exchange you give them your appreciation and respect. The minute you fail to do this, nature will turn against you. Men have said that Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned and if that is true I know first hand why it is Mother Nature which we call her. Nature is comprised of four basic elements, air, earth, fire and water. As you sit here now, feel the air tickling your palms." In soft wisps the air ran over Sarah's hands. Drumming her palms with her fingertips, she seemingly tried to capture the wind. Jareth's hands fell on hers. "Be still with me." Immediately she was motionless. Chanting something in a language Sarah had never heard, the breeze started to circle her palm, with each concentric circle the intensity grew, until it grew so strong that it glued the back of her hand to the floor and it felt as though she were holding a small funnel cloud in her palm. A breath hitched in her throat, but eyes remained closed. "The wind," Jareth told her, "can be as gentle as a kiss, or as violent as one." The sensation was gone with the sound of his voice and the room quieted again.

"Earth," he continued, "that from which all things thrive. Not just the soil that is used to grow, but the gems that bake beneath its surface, the plants, the rocks which tell its history. This very marble," the king turned her hands palm down against the cool floor, "is a product of the earth. Sometimes earth is reflective, still, watching us almost as closely as we watch it." A few more words in that language only he seemed to know and Sarah felt the earth shake, not just in her palms, but through her whole body. She'd never been to California where the mortal earth shook constantly or so they claimed. This quaking was different, though she could only guess at this, it seemed to not jar her outside as much as it seemed to go through her and make her shudder from the inside out.

"Wish for fire," Jareth told her.

"I...I can't."

"You can. Believe that you can, concentrate on what you're asking the elements to do. Picture a fireplace. Picture it lit, feel the heat on your skin." Perhaps it was not so hard after all, for as Sarah listened to his words and followed her commands, she really did feel her skin grow warm. Even her sense of smell joined in as it registered the homey smell of logs ablaze. "Open your eyes."

Shock overcame her when she stared into the flame, a fire which she knew had not been lit when they began this lesson. "Did I do that?"

Jareth nodded his head. "Fire can destroy almost anything in its path and yet when treated with respect it can sustain life. A fire cooked our food when we journeyed to the Triumvirate, kept us warm, helped us to dry. You're world revolves around a burning orb. The great phoenix, dies in the flame and then rises up from the ashes."

"It's a contradiction, like the other elements. It can both give and take so drastically as to effect one's very life," Sarah summarized as she watched the flames dance.

"Precisely," the king smiled. She was learning after all.

Lost in his smile, Sarah had forgotten about the fire, forgotten the elements. He had such an amazing grin. As though he were constantly in some state of contriving something either devilish or clever, often both. "Water?" she asked in an effort to remain focused.

"Water," he repeated. "The human body is mostly comprised of water. For the immortals it is not entirely different, although your elemental class can increase or decrease the percentage some. Water is the source of life. Life for the earth and for the air. When the fire first began the air in the room got thick. Air carries water, when heated, the water forms condensation, thus our final element makes itself known. Feel your forehead." Sarah did as she was told and it was moist with perspiration, although she wondered if that was fully from the fire.

"But water would douse a fire," she thought aloud.

"Indeed it would, just as air would fan it. Just as water brings earth new life while fire destroys it. There are equals and opposites in the equation, but when each one is mindful of the others, grateful for what it needs to take and generous with what it needs to give, we achieve a perfect balance. We achieve magic."

Meaning to speak her mouth hung open, her eyes watching his lips form the words, beautiful words that a poet should have written or a bard should have sung and yet he spoke of nothing more than magic which for him was as common as a sneeze. "I see."

"Good," he said rather mechanically. "Then you're ready to get started."

"Are you going to teach me those chants?"

"No Sarah your magic is different than mine. You'll harness it in other ways. Take the fire for example. Your connection with the elements can be called upon. Go on, try. Imagine a huge gust filling your room." Sarah did as she was told, smiling when she heard the flames flapping in the breeze and watching as her duvet fell to the floor.

"What about what I did with the guitar?"

"Playing it? That's a mortal magic. Something most mortals have, but not all are patient enough or believe in themselves enough to develop. It's not elemental at all. I believe your kind call it talent."

"Not playing it, making it." Sarah fashioned her hands as if she were creatng the instrument from thin air.

"That's elemental, only that type of transformation might require the presence of more than one element at a time or deeper concentration on your part. It is still a very basic spell. It's your visions that intrigue me. I've known seers, although I've never understood what they do. It's a spiritual magic, one I cannot teach you. It may even be that the gift is the result of a connection with another plane, another world."

Wincing, Sarah thought, 'Haven't I enough of those.'

"I can't help you to understand your visions. I can't teach you how to use them, but I would be eager to listen to the tales they've told you, curious to see if there is a pattern to their arrival."

"So you want me to tell you when I get one, what I'm doing just before and what it causes me to see?"

Jareth nodded, "In fact, I'd be curious to go over the visions you've had to date and see if we can find a pattern." Her face grew nervous at the suggestion, aware that it meant disclosing her state of mind the night she spent alone and yet occupied in his bed. As the king often did, he misread her expression and quickly added, "But not tonight. It is late. You are tired and tomorrow will be quite exhausting."

"I rather enjoy the thought of seeing your grounds. It's exciting seeing the sectors, all their beauty, all their wonder," she admitted hastily.

"I doubt that you will feel that way about the Northeast. It is the most unpleasant of my lands," Jareth stood, offering a hand to Sarah to help her to do the same. "Extinguish the fire please."

Only half concentrating she pictured the log going out, the embers dying down, smoke rising up the chimney. It took twice as long as the ignition had because of how little she focused. Her mind was awry with other thoughts. If the Northwest had been Jareth's favorite part of the kingdom and it was like paradise, how bad could the Northeast really be? Tomorrow she would see. Tomorrow the Northeast would teach her not to make assumptions.

Awaking in the king sized bed, Sarah stretched out her arms and legs. A reminder of a past night flashed in her mind, another time when all her appendages had been splayed. Quickly she shrugged it off. There was readying to be done, clothing to pack, and by the growl in her stomach, breakfast to be eaten. Cold marble stung her feet, as they escaped the cozy warmth of her bed. Standing before her wardrobe she wondered what she should wear, even contemplated knocking on the adjoining door to ask the king. Rather than seem incapable of making even the simplest decisions on her own, she pulled out a pair of jeans and a button shirt.

Arulan brought breakfast, somewhat surprised to find Sarah up and dressed. "My, but you seem anxious to get going today."

"I wouldn't say anxious, I just don't want to give his majesty the opportunity to harp on me for anything else."

"Then you better change," the elf warned her.

"Why? Are pants inappropriate for women here?"

"As a matter of fact, it is unexpected, unless your riding. My reason for mentioning it though, is the weather is quite warm and humid where you're headed. While the king is fey and can easily adjust his body temperature, you on the other hand, cannot. Trust me when I tell you, you will be far more comfortable in a shift."

"Thank you," the mortal offered weakly, embarrassed that she had allowed herself to misdirect her anger at Arulan, who was now opening the wardrobe and choosing something more appropriate for her to wear. Sarah caught herself picturing the king with his servant. Their two blond mops intermingled as they kissed. She prayed that he was at least good to her if he could not be faithful.

Turning with a smile the elf revealed a lavender shift. "Your hair and skin tones make shades of purple perfect for you, if you don't mind my saying." She held the dress to Sarah's shoulders and tilted her head as she admired the girl. "Yes this one."

Sarah changed openly before her, they had formed a mother-daughter bond that made it seem silly to be embarrassed about such an obvious task. As the cool fresh garment slid over her skin, Sarah thought about how that same bond made everything she had done with Jareth seem dirty. That wasn't fair, it had seemed dirty before, popping into some fantasy world to have a quick fling with a king, but what she suspected between Arulan and Jareth made it seem worse, almost immoral. Yet, as it had been from the moment he first threw open the french doors on her parents' balcony, as it would most likely be until they were torn from each other's lives, the Goblin King, despite her proclamation, had retained some power over her. In the beginning Sarah cursed the permanently pouted lips, the devilish grin that forever seemed to speak what his lips did not, the earth-toned discoloration creating a smile around his eyes which easily captured her attention and held it. He exposed just enough of his physique, either openly revealed or packed in tightly concealed ripples and bulges, to keep one's imagination active, but he was still every bit a king, his square shoulders letting his frock coats hang perfectly, accentuating his tapered waist, making his already extended legs appear longer.

It had to be something more, she hoped. Sarah Williams didn't want to imagine that a purely physical attraction could fill her senses the way the Goblin King had. That would have been superficial and though she could have been accused of being immature even selfish, she wouldn't exactly have said superficial. Maybe if she let her guard down some, he'd let her get to know him. A small part of her hoped she'd learn to think of him like a father; otherwise she wasn't quite sure what she would do with the memory of his kiss when they sent her back Aboveground.

"Sarah, dear, are you alright?" Arulan's soft concern broke her reverie.

"Fine, thank you. I'm fine."

"Eat then, before it goes cold. His majesty will be downstairs waiting. I overheard him telling Turgomon he wanted to leave precisely at eight. I would do your best to be ready by then."

Sarah smiled and nodded appreciatively.

It was 7:56 when the mortal descended the staircase in the main hall. Jareth stopped the discussion he was having with his advisor so he could watch her walk. The shift swayed around her thighs like petals in the wind. Her hair hung long, over her shoulders, the sides cleared of her face by sections from each temple that she had pulled back and braided, like a natural crown, only more elegant than any precious metal or gem. On a long silver chain which hung between her breasts, the miniature replica of the medallion worn by the king. By the time his eyes made their way to her face, Jareth's jaws were gapping. It seemed her movements happened in slow motion, each step a languid, graceful dance.

When Sarah reached the landing, she rose her head and looked at Turgomon, he smiled at her. She returned his smile prettily before meeting Jareth's gaze. "Ready to go?" she asked him, feeling awkward suddenly with these two sets of eyes on her.

"In a moment. We're waiting on Deverell," he explained.

"Should I wait upstairs?" she asked feeling as if she'd interrupted them.

Turgomon bowed, "Milady, to think I sent you away would pain me greatly, please stay."

Smiling at him sweetly she continued down the second flight of stairs and stood between the two men. Jareth wore his usual garb, grey tights, high boots, an open shirt, a vest and his gloves. Sarah tried to smile at the king, but when she saw him, she saw Maeve and when she saw Maeve, she saw red. Not because of the fey's hair, rather the notion that this woman had once meant something to the king, the same fey that Sarah had these fostering feelings for, ones that were still nameless. "Will Gribbin be bringing the horses around to the front gates?"

Jareth laughed, "Why? Does milady wish to go riding before we leave?"

"No, I just figured we'd be riding to the Northeast."

"Sarah, love, you allowed the Triumvirate to restore my magic. Travel by such means as horseback is unnecessary not to mention untimely for our purposes. We have but two days to spend in Ranofyr's sector."

"Only two days?"

The king raised an eyebrow at her curiosity as he wondered how much of it was disappointment they would not be traveling together as they had on the journey to the Triumvirate. "You will see once we arrive, two days and you will be begging me to transport you home."

"Is it as bad as he makes it sound?" Sarah's attentions turned to Turgomon, hoping that it had not become too obvious the way she was staring into Jareth's eyes.

"I'm afraid it is, but fear not, you're well looked after." The king's assistant looked at his majesty before adding, "Our armies are many and ready at the king's whistle." Jareth watched Sarah go sullen.

"Your majesty," Deverell said when he finally appeared in the main hall.

"You're late."

"My apologizes your grace," the younger fey was well winded, "but this morning's lesson with Dalkeil ran long."

"You've taken a lesson so early?" the king asked in surprised.

"Aye your grace. Dalkeil feels that my hand to hand combat training is best done in the morning in order to get the most benefit for sharpening my senses."

"I suppose he would know best," Jareth concurred. "Nevertheless, the mortal and I must be going I've left a list with Turgomon who will help you get started. Unless something critical occurs, we are not to be disturbed."

"Yes your grace."

Jareth nodded to the two men and then extended an elbow to Sarah. "Ready?"

"As I'll ever be," She said taking his arm. Transporting was like a warm, furry blanket that surged with energy as it enveloped her. Within seconds she felt the very powerful heat of the blazing sun. Her eyes still closed, Sarah breathed in the air. It was thick with humidity, making her glad she had taken Arulan's advice to change her clothes. Salt scented mist stung her face. It was enough to keep her eyes closed.

"Have a look," Jareth whispered against her ear. Even in the warmth that hung all around her, his closeness and sultry tone gave her a cold shiver. Slowly Sarah opened her eyes, blinking a few times as she adjusted to the light. Before her stood a sight she would have refused to believe if she hadn't been seeing it for herself. Made completely of sand, standing three stories high, with turrets and towers, was a castle. The pink sand rose from the beach and constructed the amazing building. Sarah removed her shoes and let her feet sink into the beach. Between her toes and along her soles, the grains were warm like a load of freshly dried laundry. Still in awe she approached the castle door with Jareth close behind. As though she were afraid her touch would melt the fixture, Sarah extended one hand to reach out for the door. Cascading her fingers over the door, it felt grainy, like an emery board, but when she grew brave enough to press at the sand with her finger, she found that it did not give way, as strong as wood or metal.

Sarah continued pressing against the door, "How do you do this?" she asked Jareth, turning to evaluate his response. The entire time her right pointer finger continued to poke at the door.

"How else?" he grinned. "Magic."

The mortal's breath caught in her throat when the substance beneath her finger gave way. She spun around to face a grinning fey in a light muslin robe which hung loosely over his lean body. Auburn eyes looked her over. "How may I help you?"

Sarah stuttered for words feeling increasingly uncomfortable as she stood before the menacing looking Representative. "Ah...I ...er..."

"Ranofyr, tormenting the mortal is a pleasure reserved for me. You were aware of our coming this morning."

"So I was." Sarah noticed the deepness in his voice immediately. Baritone for certain, possibly even bass. "I suppose I should invite you in."

"You could always refuse the visit and send us away."

"Nonsense," Ranofyr chuckled. "Come in, come in." Despite how threatening he appeared, the Representative seemed gracious enough to his guests. "Might I offer you a drink?"

"Just water," Jareth replied. Sarah nodded following his example. Ranofyr materialized two glasses of water, one in each palm and requested, "Follow me." He led them to a sitting room just off the main hall. Setting the glasses down in front of a chaise he invited them to sit. "So you've come to restore my lands?"

Though the Representative had directed his question to the mortal, Jareth interrupted with a reply before Sarah could part her lips. "They're my lands Ranofyr, let's not forget that."

"Begging your pardon, your lands then." He said it with great distaste and what Sarah was very afraid was hatred. By now even Tiberon would have addressed him as his majesty or king, some evidence of respect, but not this Representative, not Ranofyr. Sarah moved closer to the king on the settee.

"I've brought the girl as the Triumvirate instructed me to do, so that her presence could restore the lands here. If you wish to refuse, you may. Otherwise you are to accommodate us until the morning after tomorrow at which time we will humbly take our leave." Jareth handled him with kid glove care, saying just the right words with just the right authority in them so as not to offend or seem aggressive. He knew Ranofyr was an unpleasant fey, bitter and barren as his surroundings.

"It's not that I don't want you to visit you understand. It is, after all, a great honor to have both the king and the legend here in my sector. Only thing is, and I hate to seem ungrateful," he laughed menacingly, "we have all gotten rather used to the way things are here. Why mess with a situation that pleases the majority? Surely you can appreciate that."

"Yes," the king let the word roll of his tongue as he narrowed an eye on Ranofyr. He pressed himself forward and began to stand, "We'll just be on our way then."

"No, please. I do so wish you would stay."

"For what purpose?" Jareth asked with suspicion.

"Jareth, you hurt me when you think me less than forthright."

"I rather would have thought you'd find such a thing complimentary."

"Touche old man. But I speak in earnest when I beseech you to stay. Have a stroll around. See what I've done with the place. What harm is there in that? Consider it a vacation." Leaning back, Ranofyr smiled, knowing full well that unless he told them to go they could not.

Jareth held a smug, stiff chin. "Very well then. Where shall we begin?"

"No hurry. You've two days after all. Why not tour the castle until lunch, then perhaps the cliffs until dinner and a nice stroll on the beach to help settle the meal. Tomorrow we can boat out to Man Island. Before you know it you'll be begging me to stay." The skin around his eyes jumped as he touted out the sector. Sarah's skin crawled.

Again it was the mortal he focused on, but Jareth who replied. "I'm a king Ranofyr, I do not beg."

"Must you take everything so literally?"

"It is the nature of our being, words were given meaning for a reason and I choose to respect that."

"Bother. Sarah you've been very quiet."

Words refused to come to her, even the small single syllable ones. She reached for the water and sipped at it. "There is so much to take in," she said as she looked around the chamber of the giant sand castle, an overwhelming sense of uneasiness sweeping through her. She'd hoped as much as Jareth had they would be dismissed, refused. Obviously that was not to be the case.

"More than you know, love."

"You will address her with respect." Jareth's abruptness caused the Representative to snap his head around and hold the king's intense stare. "In her world they are given names. You will use it to call her by or when speaking to her at all times. Otherwise you may address her through me. The choice is yours."

"Touchy, touchy, touchy, Jareth. Why if I didn't know that you knew better, I might suspect you'd never gotten over Sarah." When he smiled this time he showed his teeth. Not only did they have the distinguishing unevenness of Jareth's but they came to points in his mouth, as if they'd been filed into tiny daggers. Sarah looked away, focused on something on the table between them rather than stare.

"Ranofyr, I am still your king," to keep from strangling the fey, Jareth worked at his gloves tightening them over his fingers, hiking them up his arms, "your tone with me alone would be enough for me to drag you before the Triumvirate."

He returned the threat with one of his own. "Your sympathy to the mortal would be enough for me to do the same." Quizzically he cocked his head waiting for the reply.

"The Triumvirate has requested my patience with the girl. My treatment of her is their direct order. Now, on with this tour of your hovel, that is unless you've changed your mind about refusing us?"

"Not at all your majesty."

The tour began from one of the turrets, from which Sarah could easily see the king's castle. She began wishing that she were back there but stopped when she remembered how much power her wishing things had in the Underground. The Labyrinth spread out before her covering hundreds of acres and yet seeming so simple and easy to negotiate from this height. When it was time to move on, Jareth actually had to take her arm and tug her away. The third floor was comprised of four bedrooms and two baths. Ranofyr explained how he had yet to take himself a wife because he had yet to find someone that enjoyed the same kinds of non-traditional things he did. Sarah felt her face react when he added, "I hear Maeve's back on the market, perhaps I should give her a call."

'Please do,' the Goblin King wanted to say, but he thought it best to show no interest in the subject.

The second floor was comprised of a library, an office and a sitting room with a fireplace. Sarah marveled at the number of books inside the library. Ranofyr didn't seem like the most educated fey she had met here, that he would so enjoy literature surprised her greatly. Back on the ground floor, they were shown the kitchen, the dining hall, the music room and the courtyard. The orchard trees were all black and mangled, starved of water by the dry desert sand and incredibly challenged by the atmospheric lack of rain.

"I have saved the best for last. I think you will find what I have done to the dungeon to be both awe inspiring as well as creative." At the bottom of the stone stairs which took them to the dungeon, Ranofyr pulled open a huge metal door. The first thing Sarah had seen that was not completely formed from sand. "Go on, take a look inside."

Tentatively, Sarah peeked inside. She fought back the nausea that bounced about in her stomach and looked away as fast as she could tear her eyes away. Chains hung from the wall. A rack stretched across the expansive core of the level. In the corner a crude model of a guillotine, the blade had been stained darkly in a semicircle. Jareth ran to the opened door, looked in and then slammed it closed. "This is what you consider creative?" he asked Ranofyr.

"What would you call it?"

"Sick!"

"But some of the inhabitants enjoy coming here to play with my toys. Not to mention the parties we've had," he sneered merrily.

"Never discuss this room or the goings on inside it with me again. What you and your sector's inhabitants engage in under consensus is little of my concern, but if word so much as drifts to me on the wind of any illegal use of this room, I'll have you exiled and replaced."

A protective arm thrown around Sarah's shoulder guided her as he marched them back upstairs allowing her to catch her breath. At length she asked weakly, "Why would anyone want..."

"I do not know Sarah and perhaps it would be best if we didn't think about it.

Just before noon they were guided to the dining room for lunch. Sarah only nibbled at what had been set before her. Jareth pushed his food around the plate, eager for these two days to come and go. "So, how is old Maeve?" Ranofyr asked breaking the silence.

Sarah shoved a carrot in her mouth to keep from adding her two cents in. "Fine," Jareth commented, his eyes cast down.

"Fine, is that all you can tell me?"

"'Fraid so," he replied curtly.

The Representative continued his relentless pursuits, " She spent all her time with you at the ball. None of the rest of us could get near her all night."

"'Fraid so," he replied curtly.

Glancing at the mortal who grew increasingly uncomfortable with the topic at hand he asked, "And you Sarah, how did you like Maeve? I'm curious for another woman's opinion." Ranofyr's eyebrows arched as he awaited her reply.

"I can't honestly say as I spent much time with her." It was the truth, an answer Jareth was pleased to see Sarah had the tact to provide.

"Surely you were able to form some opinion of her. Maeve is far from shy. She must of made herself noticeable to you some how."

Slamming down her fork Sarah looked up, noticed that her act had gotten the attention of the men at the table and calmly said, "You know Ranofyr, I just can't seem to keep my appetite what with all the talk you did earlier of these cliffs we have to explore."

"Right," the Representative cooed. "Well, then I'll have the servants tend to this and we'll be off."

Though his face remained like stone, the Goblin King smiled inside at the maturity the mortal displayed in handling Ranofyr's blatant attempt to infuriate her. She had learned something after all.

A narrow winding path led up the cliff side forcing them to walk single file. Ranofyr led and Jareth stayed behind, allowing Sarah the protection of being positioned between them. They were the strangest cliffs Sarah had ever seen for they didn't jut out from a mountainside. They stood freely, one side white, bleached from the salt water, the other side black, like coal. Bravely, Sarah walked to the edge and looked over. She never much feared heights, besides the scene below was fascinating, watching the waves break and crash against the shore. 'Nature is truly a powerful force,' she thought.

"Welcome to the home of the Bean Sidhe, sister of Leanan Sidhe, commonly referred to both Above and Underground as Banshee. We've got a whole collection of them in these cliffs, some appear as a young woman, others a stately mother figure and some still, twisted old hags, but each with one purpose. Once regarded as goddesses of war and death, they glide about these cliffs wearing their grey hooded cloak and winding their boneless bodies as their howls ring through the stone so loud, so low, so foreboding that the Supreme One himself feels the hair on his neck rise on edge. Not a creature alive, mortal or immortal, can claim ignorance to her omen."

Sarah had heard the story of the Banshee. Her cry was a warning of impending death. Suddenly she regretted showing such an interest in coming here. "This is their home, those things live here?"

"They do. And if I were you, I wouldn't be calling them 'those things'. They are sensitive and vengeful lot."

"Don't go scaring her Ranofyr," Jareth boomed.

"Come now, you ought to know your mother's cousins better than any of us. How resentful can the Leanan Sidhe be when she is not respected?"

"Moot point."

"I'd like to head back to the castle now if you please." Sarah interrupted the argument with her request. "I'd like to have time to clean up before dinner. I feel completely covered in sea spray."

"Yes, well, by all means, I won't have my guests feeling uncomfortable." They doubled back the trail they'd taken to get to the cliffs in the first place.

Sarah sunk into a tub of hot water, letting the grit liquefy and melt away from her tender skin. Thoughts of the banshee were still fresh in her mind as she closed her eyes. It was Maeve's face she saw on one of the howling ghosts, only rather than an ambiguous cry, Maeve called her name. The mortal shrieked, fearing it was a vision. Jareth came bursting into the bath. Sarah gasped at the intrusion, covering herself with her hands.

"Are you alright?" he practically shouted at her.

"Fine, I just fell asleep and forgot where I was." She wouldn't admit to the weakness of being frightened by a nightmare. "When I woke up I gave myself a start."

Looking around the room skeptically, he conceded, for he had seen nothing else in there with her, certainly he hadn't seen what she had. "I suppose that's possible," he said raising his eyebrow at her. Seeing her naked in the water pleased him and had they not been here in Ranofyr's home, he'd have pulled a chair to the tub's side and offered his assistance in washing her back, but they were where they were and there was no sense in jeopardizing himself by showing genuine interest in his mortal here. He turned hesitantly and left, closing the door behind him.

As Sarah finished her bath, she thought about the wavering she'd seen on his face. Wondering if it was out of longing for his Maeve that he looked her over, or perhaps it stirred a memory of Arulan's baths and he was feeling home sick. Angry she stood and dried herself. They had packed nothing for the trip. Using her magic, which she assumed Jareth expected of her, Sarah changed the lavender shift into a simple black dress. This place made her feel morbid, remorseful, as if she should be wrapped in some dark, drab, lifeless color. In compliment, the necklace transformed into it's original embroidered wrap.

Making her way to the staircase, she joined the gentlemen who awaited her. As they walked to the dining room, Ranofyr complimented her appearance, "More ravishing than I have ever seen Maeve."

"Even when it's a hidden compliment, mortal woman find it trite at best, being compared to other woman." It was a lie, an obvious one by the grin though which she'd spoken it. Sarah very much enjoyed hearing that she was more beautiful than Jareth's former love.

"What's for dinner?" the king offered as a means to change the topic.

"Lamb," Ranofyr replied. "Sacrificial lamb." He was the only one who chuckled at the poor excuse for a joke.

What was served to them was beyond rare, it was raw. Not even the edges of the meat had been braised. Naturally, this did not phase the fey, for both of them had a primal hunter's palate. Sarah, on the other hand, ate around the medallions, cringing every now and then when the blood would sour the taste of the vegetables or potatoes onto which it had spilled. Three glasses of mead were spent trying to wash the taste from her mouth.

When the meal had ended, Jareth rose and approached the mortal, "You will enjoy the sight of the beach by night. Perhaps the first thing you will enjoy since I've brought you here," he scowled at the Representative who had ordered seconds from the kitchen. "Would you care to join me?"

'Well I'm not staying here,' she thought. Rather than announce her true feelings, she graciously took Jareth's offered arm and excused herself from Ranofyr's company.

Outside the moon shone over the water making it seem dark and slippery like black ice only filled with movement, waves and ripples, that the stillness of ice could never allow. The heat had left the top layer of the sand. At a point, not far from the cliffs, Jareth stilled himself and with a sadness Sarah had never seen tarnish his face before, shy once, looked out into the sea. Nervously, she dug her toes into the sand feeling as if she were intruding on a moment he should have been having alone. Thinking that he was lost in a memory of his mother, she tried to look away, tried to keep her own tears from forming, tried not to feel so hateful that he wouldn't talk to her about these things. Deeper beneath the grains that they had been plodding over the sand was still hot, like stored sunlight. Sarah sat upon the exposed grains and allowed the warmth to comfort her. It seemed as though she had her knees hugged to her chin for an hour or more before the Goblin King remembered he had asked her to join him.

"This really used to be a lovely place. The water would turn opaque and navy beneath the moon. The sand was pink, the cliffs green." A gloved hand reached down to her. She accepted it, allowing him to lift her to standing. He held her hand loosely in his own as she followed his wide strides with her tiny steps. "Look there," he told her, pointing out to what appeared to be an island in the middle of the sea. A light house rose high above the horizon, only no beacon lit the way for the ships. Just the white chipped paint of the tower, casting back the moonlight enough to make it's silhouette stand out prominently against the night sky. "That was called Man Island. All the mortals who failed my Labyrinth were sent there. It wasn't so much a punishment. The island is...was," he corrected himself, "a lush paradise. The only pain they knew was the loss of their home and family. Many of them eventually overcame the loss and went on to form new lives, new families with other mortals."

"Is that where I'd have gone if I had failed to," what was she supposed to say; conquer you? Defeat you? "complete the Labyrinth?" she decided.

"No," he admitted sullenly. "I wouldn't have let you go there. Not because it wasn't suitable, but because I would have kept you for my queen."

Moved by his confession, Sarah looked up at him, the white of his eyes even brighter in the moonlight. She couldn't comprehend what he'd just said, couldn't accept it. "Do you suppose they're still there? The mortals."

"Who knows what Ranofyr has done. I was afraid to bring you here. Afraid of what Ranofyr had done while I was ignoring everything but my own selfishness, afraid that this would turn out to be what it is, a sick and depraved land where nothing joyful lives"

"Everything is comprised of good and evil, Jareth. Even me. What would the Northwest sector be without the Northeast to combat it? Perhaps it's a good idea that Ranofyr has made what he's made here. A haven for all things maniacal. That way they don't go mucking up everything else that's good and beautiful."

"Is there nothing you can't find the good in?" he asked her in genuine wonderment.

"There are a few things," she admitted, Maeve being at the head of the list. Sarah rapidly ran her palms over her arms, chilled in the night air. The king removed his coat and slid it over her shoulders. When Jareth took a seat upon the sand and watched the water lap the shore, his mortal joined him by nestling between his knees resting back against him. Sleep claimed her shortly after she had gotten comfortable. For awhile he alternated between watching her and watching the waves, but eventually sleep claimed him too.

Shortly before three in the morning, Sarah awoke to a hideous caterwauling that came from the cliffs. When she realized she had fallen asleep in Jareth's arms, his coat around her like a blanket, she managed to calm herself enough to look around before screaming. The cliffs were littered with faintly glowing, gliding streaks of sickening green. Her small hand reached for Jareth's chest, shaking him gently she called his name.

"I see," he told her when he woke. "The Sidhe only howl at night. It was irresponsible for me to let you fall asleep out here. We'll go back to the castle." They stood. Sarah began to run briskly in the thin crack of moonlight that remained. "Sarah don't," the king told her calmly. She turned to ask him to repeat himself and stumbled over a piece of drift wood in the sand. From the cliffs a single green light sped through the sky, howling the entire way. She saw its wretched face drawn out in pain as it hovered over her. Jareth mumbled something in his language and the woman turned, peered at him and sped away. He took the mortal's hand, helped her to her feet and dusted her off. "You must never run from anything immortal, Sarah. It makes them very angry."

"Well that explains the last fifteen years."

Jareth smiled. Even in the dark, she could see his white teeth revealed by his parting lips. She smiled back. Maybe the king had used some magic, but she didn't hear the howling coming from the cliffs anymore. She only heard the surf beside them as she let him lead her back to the castle in comfortable silence.

The king and his mortal slept through breakfast and Ranofyr let them. They had brunch instead, which suited him even better. One of his staff had the boat readied and the late meal meant they would have more time to spend on Man Island now. This pleased Ranofyr. Once they'd eaten, the Representative took them to the boat and graciously helped the mortal aboard. Next he got on and then looked foolishly at Jareth as if he had chosen to leave himself to board last.

The waters were relatively calm although they seemed to pound strongly against the small wooden craft tossing it about. White knuckled Sarah clung to the side of the vessel finding the nearing island more and more to her liking. As they made contact with the rocky shores of Man Island, a huge creature with only one arm, one leg and one eye stood nearly ten feet tall seemingly waiting for them.

"The Fachan!" Jareth cried.

"Indeed," Ranofyr replied, "I've domesticated him in a way. He'll guide the boat ashore to keep us from shattering into pieces along the rocks."

"Lovely," Jareth snorted.

"What's a Fachan?" Sarah asked.

The king looked at her and back to the Representative who only snickered. "The Fachan were guards who once lived on Man Island. They made certain the mortals could not escape."

"They feasted on them." Ranofyr's eyes sparkled as he revealed this fact to Sarah. Her eyes pleaded with the king to tell her it wasn't true.

"Only the ones who tried to escape," as if that justified it.

"Don't. Just don't tell me anymore." The king looked at the Representative with daggers in his eyes, daggers made of iron. Ranofyr only smiled more broadly.

The burly giant hopped into the sea where it swam with amazing ease and speed. With his arm he dragged the boat ashore and one by one the crew stepped onto the island. The sand was sharp and rocky. Sarah left her sandals on. The lush paradise that Jareth had described the night before had vanished leaving behind desolation in its wake. "This way," Ranofyr instructed. A way down the beach there was a clan of mermaids. All sitting in the shallow water brushing each other's hair. One in particular singing as her hair was brushed. She herself worked on no one's locks, merely sang, a haunting tune, but a lovely one that echoed although Sarah couldn't guess off what. She had silver edged blue scales on her lower half and thick blonde hair which cascaded to the small of her back meeting the scales, hiding her breasts, highlighting her wide blue eyes. "That's Lorelei."

Sarah looked at him as if to ask, 'Why is that important?'

"Lorelei distracts ship's captains with her beauty and her song, until they are so distracted them that they crash their ship upon the rocks."

"Well shouldn't the lighthouse warn them?" Sarah protested.

"I disabled that thing years ago," he chuckled. Lorelei flapped her tail at him as if to wave. At the end of the chain of mermaids was a withered woman whose hair no one brushed. She looked ragged and unkempt, her hair far shorter and less preened than the others.

"That one on the end. What's her story?" Sarah asked.

"What makes you think she has a story?" Jareth countered.

"Everything has a story," she told him before settling her curious eyes on Ranofyr.

"That's Squant. She fell in love with a land giant who would sit on the beach and lean against the lighthouse. His pipe puffed white clouds over the water. One day she lured him to the water's edge and wrapped her hair around him. As she did he fell into a deep sleep and she was never able to wake him. Squant cut her hair until she was almost completely bald, but for a few tufts that popped out in every direction. Kind of like yours Jareth." He laughed, but he was the only one.

"What became of the giant?" Sarah inquired.

"You can still see him when the tide goes out."

The mortal cringed. The king scowled. The Representative kept walking. Just beyond where the mermaids sat they could see the shattered remains of ships who failed to fear Lorelei's song. In silence they continued following their tour guide for what seemed an impossibly long while until they came to an open beach. On some rocks that jutted into the water seals basked in the day's sun. On the beach, Sarah saw what looked like nude mortals frolicking and playing. As she approached, she quickly attracted their attention. What shocked her more, she couldn't say. The fact that mortals remained here or the idea that they were all nude. "Are those.."

"Go on. Have some fun with your own kind. The king and I'll be just over in that cove having a stem. Enjoy yourself milady." He bowed to her. "Come Jareth, you'll be able to see her from over there." Begrudgingly he followed the Representative. Settled into the cove, Ranofyr handed him a stem and the two men lit up. They discussed the matters of this sector. The changes the Representative had made and the idea that Sarah had pointed out to him the night before about bad things needing a home too. It was all rather amicable to Jareth's surprise.

Meanwhile, the mortals played volleyball on the beach. Sarah had grown oblivious to the fact they wore no clothes. She laughed and talked until the sun sunk low in the sky. They lit a bonfire and they danced. Jareth watched her from the cove. Half jealous that she seamed to be having so much fun and half thankful that this had not been as appalling an experience for her as the mainland had been.

When the rhythm of the music they played hit Ranofyr's ears he drifted into dream. Jareth left his side to join the mortal. The others seemed rather bothered by his presence. "Perhaps you should join us," the king suggested.

"Don't be silly. They're just a bit frightened because, well, you are the one who sent them here."

Her statement forced him to think. Yes, he would have been the one to send them. So then why didn't he recognize any of them? "Have it your way," he told her as he walked off. The thought of not recognizing the faces of the mortals on the shore bothered him profusely. Jareth strolled through and over the rocks of the cove. Something slick and shiny caught his attention, more grey than black, it was easily distinguishable from the rocks. His gloved hand reached down to grasp the item. It was soft, with a short but euphonious pelt. Glancing once more toward his mortal he saw one of the males sling an arm about the girl. Sarah seemed no the more put out by his affection. They chatted and chuckled. In a moment, he began to close in on his mortal, making her visibly uncomfortable, making Jareth furious.

As the king's hand clenched into a fist, he realized, it was a seal skin he had been holding. Those weren't mortals at all. They were the Selkie folk. The seals that could come ashore, shed their skins and frolic in the form of a human. When humans crossed their paths they seduced them, impregnating them or becoming impregnated with their shape shifting offspring. Often this took the life of the mortal host subject to the impregnating. With great purpose, Jareth made his way closer to the girl. "Sarah!" he called out onto the beach. "Sarah!" The mortal began walking toward him, a quizzical, but relieved expression on her face.

The Representative stirred, "What's the commotion?"

Hitting him square in the face, the skin was cold, wet and stunk of fish. "This! Those aren't the mortals I sent here. Those are Selkie. You sent my mortal to the Selkie!"

"The what?" Sarah asked now in ear shot.

"I'll explain later." By now the king's booming shouts had reached the shores where the selkie danced and they scurried about finding their skins and making a bee line for the sea. Sarah watched in horror. "You will take us back to the castle immediately. At dawn's light in fulfillment of the Triumvirate's orders we will leave your land. Do what you want with the depravity you've collected here, but keep me and my mortal out of it."

A timid naked female stood just behind and to Jareth's right, quivering, wanting to ask for her skin, but obviously quite thrown by the king's outburst. Ranofyr threw the pelt to her and she scurried away. "Fine by me!" he shouted back offended at the king's words.

They boarded the boat to sail back to the mainland. A mighty shove from the Fachan and they were bouncing about the cresting waves once more. Sarah and Jareth remained at the back of the boat while Ranofyr took the helm.

"What are Selkie?" she asked. Jareth answered her honestly, hating to see the regret in her eyes for being fooled by them. "Then where are all the humans Jareth?"

"Ranofyr has probably used them to 'domesticate' the Fachan." She looked at him with squinted eyes that didn't understand how that could be. "If you want to train a dog what do you do?"

"Give him a treat when he does as he's told." Jareth just looked at her waiting for the recognition to sink in on it's own. "That's awful, that's inhuman."

"That's Ranofyr."

In the morning they stood on the castle steps, Sarah's arm fed protectively through Jareth's. The king and the Representative said their goodbyes. Then Ranofyr took up Sarah's hand, kissing the back of it and offering, "You're as lovely as the tales about the legend have told. Thank you for coming to visit me."

"And you," she reciprocated, "are as wicked as the creatures that you harbor here. If I can say nothing else it is that you are well suited to be a representative for this sector." She really could find the good in anything.


	25. Chapter 25

**CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE - VISITING THE SOUTHEASTERN SECTOR**

When they arrived back at the castle it was quiet. Deverell went back into training now that Jareth was home to contend with the matters of the kingdom. Sarah spent the day with some books she'd taken from the library, books on types of Sidhe. Arulan had peeked in on her once or twice and tried to ask about her days in the Northeast, but Sarah only said repeatedly, "I'd prefer not to think about it." Arulan put a halt to her interrogation before it caused any argument. "Do you think his majesty will allow me some time with Hoggle when we go to the southeast," Sarah asked the elf when she brought lunch to the mortal, a request Sarah had made herself.

"I'm sure he's figured that into the visit." She tried to be reassuring, but in truth, the king had most probably not considered scheduling a visit with the dwarf. Arulan made a note to discuss just that with the king once Sarah was settled.

"He doesn't like Hoggle very much I'm afraid."

"The king does not always match his actions to his feelings." Arulan began backing out as Sarah settled into the rocking chair for her meal. "You're coming down for dinner this evening, yes?" Shrugging, Sarah thought about it briefly. She was still more than a little affected by the frequency with which Maeve's name had come up while they were visiting with Ranofyr. "I hope you will. Dinner is so much nicer with another woman around." Smiling lovingly she ducked out of the room. When she reached the dining room she found Jareth at the table. "Your majesty, I was curious. You're taking the mortal to the Southeast tomorrow, correct?"

"She's not coming down for lunch?"

"No, but she'll be down for dinner."

"Humphf!"

"Your majesty, tomorrow, you are going to the Southeast, correct?" He shook his head. "And you have scheduled some time for Sarah to spend with Hoggle haven't you?"

"Why would I do that? Besides, it's not up to me to do the scheduling. We're at the mercy of what Tiberon wants for his sector." Tiberon, the name echoed in his head. An idea forming there that he couldn't believe he hadn't thought of earlier. "Arulan, you're right. Seeing Hoggle and his wife would be very important to Sarah. I am still king at the heart of the matter and Tiberon only has so much to say about our visit. I'll head to the gates after lunch and see if the dwarf will agree to allow us to stay at his home while we're in the sector."

Arulan smiled, pleased the king had come to this conclusion. Coyly she asked, "What and not stay at the castle?"

"No. Castles don't mean much to Sarah. It would mean far more for her to have the time to spend with Hoggle and his family." The king inhaled the rest of his lunch while carrying on polite conversation with the elf. She mentioned Maeve's name and their talk took a turn for the worse. "I won't have her talked about as though she were some sort of phenomenon. Ranofyr already did plenty of talking about her in front of Sarah yesterday and the girl was on edge before we even left for his sand castle in the middle of hell."

"I'm sure it wasn't that bad," she said sipping some tea.

Jareth's gloved hands slammed down on the table. "He's domesticated the Fachan, disabled the lighthouse and sent Sarah off to play volleyball with a clan of Selkie."

Arulan choked on her tea, "You're kid..." Never mind, the king doesn't kid. "What did you do to put a stop to it?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?" This surprised her.

"Sarah convinced me that it was better to give the dregs a place to call their own as it might cause less havoc than forcing them to look for other places to cause trouble."

Her eyebrows rose as she dove back into her teacup, "Wise girl isn't she?"

"I'm going to the gates to speak to the twerp."

"Dwarf."

"You say it your way, I say it mine." That said he was gone, vanished into thin air.

Sarah decided she would come down to dinner after all. When she arrived at the table, only Arulan and Dalkeil were seated. "Where's the king?" she asked the elf softly.

"I'm not sure," she replied, hoping her knowing eyes would not betray her. As he'd said at lunch he was off to see Hoggle to make the arrangements necessary for their stay.

Dalkeil chimed in, "Deverell will be with us as soon as he's cleaned up. As part of his training I had him work with Gribbin hoping it would put some muscle on the boy."

"Can anyone account for Turgomon while we're at it?" Arulan asked. No one replied.

One of the other elves came from the kitchen with a tray of salads in her arms. "The king said not to wait for him," she announced, placing a salad at each setting.

Deverell and Turgomon stumbled in together as the main course was served. When the men were asking for seconds, Jareth took his seat at the head of the table. He was served his plate and dove in readily. "Sarah," he said at some length, "I wanted to ask you something about our trip tomorrow." She looked at him, suddenly interested in the conversation at the table for the first time.

"What was that?"

"I talked to that little dwarf you're friendly with and he said it would be alright if we stayed with him while we were in the Southeast sector." With pride that he had managed to avoid Tiberon's castle, Jareth smiled broadly.

Had they not been sitting at the table with all the other members of the household, she'd have jumped up, thrown her arms around his neck and thanked him, instead she just said, "That'd be nice," from between lips that were parted in a wide grin. Now she simply couldn't wait until they left. Arulan used her napkin to cover the smile she seemed unable to avoid.

Once in high school Sarah had experienced this kind of random insomnia, the night before some production, maybe it was sophomore year when they did Guys and Dolls, no, junior year when they did Pajama Game. Her father and Karen sent her to bed early, they wanted her to be fresh and ready for opening night the next day. She milled about her room trying to keep her mind off the show, but it was no use. Before she knew it she'd read four hundred pages of Les Miserables. Oddly enough now, when she remembered that, it seemed to be a premonition of things to come. Regardless, it had been the first night she'd watched the sun come up. At seventeen, it didn't really have much mystery, nothing near as amazing as it was watching the sun come up over the Underground.

While she could easily recall these obscure moments from her past, she couldn't possible place her finger on the source of the butterflies in her stomach. Was it getting to see Hoggle again or having to see Tiberon after what had transpired between them at the ball? But what really transpired between them that night? A few harmless flirtations, a dance or two, a shower of compliments, a simple violet. Nothing of any real significance, not that she could see. Trying to put a name to it made her drowsy. Sarah jumped when Jareth knocked on their adjoining door. "Ah, come in," she called wiping the sleep from her eyes.

"Are you nearly ready?"

"Ready? I didn't think we would leave until after breakfast."

"We're having breakfast with your friends. Drema's rather looking forward to it," the Goblin King started to leave, "but if you don't want to, I can go and tell them your not intere..."

Sarah jumped up out of her bed, the cold floor stinging her bare feet, but she couldn't have cared. Throwing open the wardrobe she cried, "No, no, don't do that. I'll be ready in fifteen minutes."

"I'll expect you down stairs in twelve." He disappeared, probably gone to wait downstairs.

She chose a floral shift from the rack, one that had a beige background and small blue and yellow flowers on it. She spent a few minutes looking for her shoes while she brushed her hair free of knots. When they refused to appear before her eyes, she wished them there. Magic had a way of making things work out. Stepping into the flimsy leather soles held to her feet by a few straps and beads, Sarah's fingers worked fast to plait her locks into a loose French braid. Like an anxious child on their first day of school she came bounding down the stairs eager to burst through the door and explore the excitement of the world waiting for her.

Jareth looked up when she hit the landing. It occurred to him that her face was free of her sometimes wild mane and available for full viewing. He usually loved to watch the ebony strands framing her bisque skin, but pulled back she took on a whole new look, one that was innocent, demure, classic. "You're early," he noted one elegant eyebrow arched.

"Really," she smiled. "I hadn't noticed." It was her attempt at being playful. She had seen that side of Jareth coming out when they were in the Northeast alone on the beach. It was the first time since they were traveling back from the mountains. She liked it. She missed it. "No big send off? Where are Deverell and Turgomon?"

"Still asleep I imagine."

"Arulan?"

"Gone for her morning walk."

"Oh."

"Am I not a large enough welcoming committee for you?"

"You'll do," she winked at him. Sarah accepted his extended elbow and prepared for the warm tingling sensation she at least knew to expect now. In an instant they were both standing in Hoggle's kitchen, shrunk to size, as was necessary when visiting them. Seeing Jareth near Hoggle's size amused her, even if it took a minute's getting used to. "Hog..."

Before she could even finish the second syllable of his name she was pounced upon by her namesake, "Sarahhhhhhhh Twoooooooo!" the wee one cried as her small feet pounded over the earthen floor, buckling her knees and launching herself into the mortal's waiting arms. Sarah swung her around covering her tiny face with kisses. The king only looked on, part feeling misplaced among this touching family moment, part jealous that he had never received such a welcome from anyone in all his days. "Sarah, I thought I might never see you again."

"Don't be silly, I told you I'd be back."

The child's eyes grew serious, her little brows furrowing in a tight knit. "I not sil...ly." She spoke the adjective with painstaking slowness, her pronunciation fastidious.

"When did you learn your l's?"

Blushing, she shrugged, not positive exactly when it happened. Sarah One, no longer focused on the return of the other Sarah, at last took notice of the Goblin King. She scuttled down the length of the mortal, clinging to her leg, hiding her round, pink cheeks behind Sarah's skirt. "Sarah Two, is that the king?

Fighting back the urge to laugh, she smiled broadly. "Yes, honey, that's Jareth the Goblin King." The tiny girl quaked. Drema and Hoggle looked on, not sure Jareth would want to be bothered with a dwarf child. "What are you waiting for?" Sarah asked him. "Bend down to her level and talk to her like you would anyone else, well not like you would anyone, but just talk to her. You've had how many children in this kingdom? You must have learned something about how to communicate with them."

Drema was about to step forward and remove her daughter from the situation. Hoggle put up his hand to stop her. The king stooped down resting his elbows on his knees. "Lady Sarah, it is my pleasure to make your acquaintance." His huge gloved hand with the long leather encased fingers extended towards her. With an expected amount of hesitation she looked at it, just looked. Panned her head from his hand to Sarah Two's watchful eyes in search of guidance.

"Go on," the mortal told her, give him your hand.

Sarah One reached out her tiny fingers, still holding the mortal's leg with her other arm for safety. Curling over Jareth's first two fingers, the king lifted the tiny hand to his lips and softly brushed them against the back of her hand His golden locks fell forward and swept over her skin. She giggled like crazy, leaving her hiding spot to run over to her mother squealing as she went, "He tickles mommy, the Goblin King tickles."

Charmed by the exchange, Sarah Two smiled coyly and looked away. Hoggle watched from his wife's side, mouth hanging open, stunned at what he had witnessed. "That's PR if I've ever heard it." Jareth said rising to his feet. "Beware ye who plan to invade the Underground, the Goblin King tickles." He drew his hands across the air before him as if he had read the headline from some invisible sign.

"Well it does tickle," Sarah said, her right hand smoothing a section of his hair against his grey frock coat.

"Ahem," Hoggle coughed. "Might as well sit down. Breakfast will be ready in a minute."

Both Jareth and Hoggle reached for the head chair. "Habit," Jareth told him when the dwarf looked up at him with a stony gaze. Instead he sat to the dwarf's right, next to Sarah Two, across from Drema. Sarah One beside her mother where she could keep an eye on the mortal and the king. Setting huge platters on the table, Drema presented eggs, bacon, and pancakes as well as pitchers of juice and milk.

Taking her seat, she cheerfully announced, "Pass it around, there's plenty for everyone."

An uncomfortable silence settled over the table while they all filled their plates until Hoggle asked the question that had crossed Sarah's mind a dozen times, "Why bring her here? There's not much to be done. Just her bein' here fixed up most of what was wrong with this place."

Coolly Jareth replied, "It was a direct order from the Triumvirate."

"What's the matter Hoggle, don't you want me here?"

"Quite the contrary," Drema interruptedsending a stinging glance toward her husband.

"I just don't want you anywhere near Tiberon," Hoggle grumbled.

'I'll second that,' the king thought.

"After what he did the last time you was here..."

Jareth's eyes snapped onto the dwarf's, "What happened last time?"

"I told you it was nothing," Sarah Two said, scowling at her friend. "The other night at the ball Tiberon was a perfect gentleman."

Hoggle objected. "That oughtta prove to you he's up to no good!"

"For once I agree with the tiny twerp. Tiberon is a Lytegian breed of fey, known for their ability to beguile others."

"Boys, enough shop talk in front of the B-A-B-Y," Drema coughed to draw away from her juvenile spelling.

"I not a baby," Sarah One protested.

"No you're not," Sarah Two agreed. "You've grown quite a bit while I've been away."

"I missed you Sarah."

"I haven't been gone very long."

"Yeah, but daddy said the Goblin King was going to kill you."

"That's not what I said," he laughed nervously at the king. Jareth raised his eyebrow.

"Yes you did. You said she was going to disappear in the Labyrinth and get her fool self killed by that rat that calls himself Jareth."

"Is that what you said?" Sarah asked him through a smile.

Hanging his head, the dwarf grumbled, "Not exactly what I said."

"If you must know, Jareth saved me."

"Saved you?" Drema asked. Hoggle's eyes grew wide.

"Yes, as a matter of fact. See by the time Mason and I finished working on the door, it was late, dark and I was horribly tired. There was this horse."

"It was a Pooka," Jareth interrupted.

Sarah looked at him twisting her lips in mock irritation. "Who's telling this story?"

"Well if you're going to tell it, tell it properly."

She went on to relay everything that had happened beginning with her wild ride through the Labyrinth and concluding with their departure from the castle this morning. Well, almost everything. She left out a few things that didn't warrant repeating in mixed and severely underage company. Her feelings on Maeve she kept brief and civil. The details of her evening with Tiberon even shorter.

"You were fool enough to go off alone with him," Hoggle slammed down his silverware. Finding a common ground forming between himself and Jareth. The king too, lay down his utensils, crossed his arms over his chest and looked down his nose authoritatively at Sarah.

Without so much as a flinch she continued eating. "I'm old enough to do as I choose."

"Do you see?" Jareth conveyed his frustration to his new confidant, "Do you see what I have to put up with? I mean I save the girl's life, I put her up in my home and this is the thanks I get. Blatant disregard for her own safety. It's like having a teenager!"

"I'm no happier that she's with you, under yer roof, doing," a sharp glance from the corner of his wife's eye and he chose better words, "whatever you ask." Sarah blushed at the innuendo.

"I assure you," Jareth resumed his meal, "she's a far sight better off at my castle than she would be anywhere with Tiberon."

"Would anyone like to know what I think?" she asked rhetorically.

"No!" The pair spoke in unison.

"I would dear," Drema said. "I am very curious to know what you think?" Always the voice of reason, Hoggle's wife brought calm to the breakfast table, stilling Sarah One's swinging head as it tried to keep up with the verbal fray. The men looked at her, irritated that she had trumped them rather than rushing to protect the girl.

Sarah smiled a satisfied smile, "I think he's never been anything but nice to me. He was the only one at the ball to pay any attention to me…"

"I had obligations," Jareth insisted. "I sent Deverell and Turgomon to keep you company!"

"Let her finish Jareth," Drema told him. Sarah One put a hand to her hip and used the other to wag a finger at the king. As quickly as she turned her attention toward him, she turned her attention back to Sarah Two as if it were the most interesting tale she'd ever heard.

"Who wasn't being forced" she stressed, "to do so. I just don't understand what the fuss is all about. He's no different than you," she nodded at Jareth. "No different than Gandor or Turgomon or Deverell."

"Well if you want to make comparisons milady, he is a different species of fey than any of the men you just mentioned; however, he is still fey. I'll give you that much, but as I've told you he's Lytegian. You know someone else of Lytegian descent Sarah, someone you met earlier this week. Ranofyr? Do you find him to be the same caliber fey as Gandor or Turgomon or me for that matter.

Sarah sat dumbfounded, unable to meet his gaze, filled with embarrassment at her poorly chosen words, "No I wouldn't group all of you together."

Hoggle tried a different approach. "Sarah, we've known Tiberon for much longer than you have. He's not the fey he wants you to think he is. When we were in the woods with him, when I sent my axe sailing at his feet, was that the same Tiberon yer talkin' 'bout now?"

"I'm sure I just misunderstood him that day."

"What's to misunderstand. He pawed you, he kissed you."

"He kissed you!" the king was back in the mix.

"Maybe he's changed."

"Fey do not so easily change their demeanor," Jareth protested.

"Oh really," she fired back.

"That's different. I was in love with you." Sarah lifted her eyebrows and cocked her head. "That's what you're hoping for? You're hoping that he's fallen in love with you. That would make you happy would it?" Smug, the mortal kept her eyes on him as he ranted. "And these feelings you're hoping Tiberon has for you, are you willing to return them for him?"

She had pushed it this far, it was too late to turn back. He made her wonder about Maeve, now it was his turn to wonder. Her sharp tongue prepared a nasty retort, but before she could, Drema's cool head prevailed. "If you three want to act like children, go ahead, but you won't do it in front of my child." Despite the baby crying her objection to being removed, Drema carried her back to her bedroom, finally conceding to play checkers if she would only hush. Sarah looked at the men left at the table with her. They had been acting like children, all of them.

"Drema's right." Standing and removing the dirty dishes from the table she decided, "I owe them an apology. If you'll excuse me." She knocked gently on the door of the bedroom that had become familiar to her.

Once hidden inside, Jareth turned to Hoggle, "He kissed her?"

"On the lips."

"You threw an axe at him?"

"I did," the dwarf confessed his tone gruff and authoritative like a father's would be. "Then we sent Gandor after him."

"You did?"

"I did."

"Good man, Hoggle."

"It's H...ard not to want to keep her safe."

"Tell me about it."

They looked at each other for a long minute, sizing each other up. Hoggle had noticed a change in Jareth. What had made him miserable melted away when Sarah came back. There was a change in Sarah too. He saw through her smoke screen, putting Tiberon between them to keep from letting him get close. Probably trying to make him jealous enough to confess his feelings first, so she didn't have to. "I won't let anyone hurt her."

"Understood," Jareth whispered with sincerity.

Drema pulled Sarah close to her, "I don't want you to go. I hate saying goodbye to you."

"I'll be home by nightfall. We're staying here tonight," she reassured her.

"Even so, why can't you just stay here all day?"

"Because," Jareth interjected, "she's got to go into the woods, got to see the castle."

"Don't so much as take an eye off her," Hoggle warned.

To maintain the farce, the king looked at him as if to say, 'You dare tell me what to do.' Then held out his elbow for Sarah to accept so he could transport them to Tiberon's castle.

They arrived outside the castle gate only seconds later having returned to full size. Tiberon's castle was the most odd of the castles she had seen thus far. I looked like several button mushroom caps attached to a giant mass root system. Each cap representing the top of a turret, designed to blend into the wooded backdrop and appear to be nothing more than a mushroom patch. Before Jareth could ring the Representative was at the door.

"King, what a pleasure to have you with us. Won't you come in?" he turned to the side and allowed Jareth to enter. As Sarah moved to follow, Tiberon slipped his hand beneath hers, raising it effortlessly to his lips as if he were going to kiss the back of it. At the last second he turned her hand over and pressed his mouth against her palm, "It's lovely to see you again milady."

Sarah blushed. Jareth's face grew red as well, only his hot with anger. "Let's not waste much time, there's plenty to be done. What is it that still needs to be repaired in this sector?"

"Surely we needn't rush. I don't see why this can't be a pleasurable experience for all of us." Tiberon's violet eyes sat on the mortal as he spoke these words.

"I did not get to be by being lackadaisical. I'd just as soon we make our plan and set about our business so that we can accomplish something before we must retire to the dwarf's home."

"The dwarf's home?" Tiberon asked, a flare in his voice that announced he had no prior knowledge of these arrangements. Seeing the way Sarah drew back and raised her eyebrows at his outburst, he said more calmly, "But I had prepared two of the finest rooms here for you."

"Oh, but Hoggle and I are good friends, I would feel terribly rude being here and not staying with him." The Goblin King smiled, content to allow Sarah to make the objection for once. Tiberon's expression of utter disappointment was something Jareth would have rather enjoyed remembering, thus he made a special effort to tuck it away in his mind as a souvenir.

"But of course," he chuckled. "I completely understand," his smile was cursory at best. "Well then, I suppose we should get down to business. Let me lead you to the library, I have some maps there that will be helpful."

As the Representative led them through the main entrance and down the hall to the library Sarah looked around. The castle was mostly stone and wood, a lot like Jareth's although not as impressively built or plushly decorated. The floors were dirt, not a scrape of marble to be found. When Tiberon opened the door to the library Sarah was surprised to see that it was small and intimate, the wood darkened with natural bark. Unlike the king's massive library this one contained fewer than two hundred books, a large table with six chairs surrounding it and a small roll top desk tucked in a corner by the window. It was cherry finish and didn't match anything in the room. It was as if it hid in the corner, scorned by everything else that filled the library, shunned because it was odd.

"That desk is charming," Sarah remarked when she finished evaluating it.

"My father's," Tiberon said coldly.

Jareth looked it over himself. "It always amazed me what Gumlain was able to do when he set his mind to it. It's a fine piece of carpentry, you should be proud." The king had spoken in earnest. Gumlain had been a good man, with a kind heart, a pillar of the realm. Jareth often wondered how it was that Tiberon became what he was having two such gentle parents, but children were apt to rebel he supposed.

"Yes," was that a sneer crossing his lips as he continued, "father was rather handy." The Representative took a seat at the long table, "You wanted to talk business your majesty, shall we."

Jareth sat across from him and was pleased when Sarah sat to his left. Tiberon turned the map, making it easier for them to read as he began to explain. "You see here we have a stream bed that's dried up, there's got to be a spell that will get it flowing. This clearing was housing until it grew covered by fallen leaves and branches, now it's little more than a thicket. A series of paths in this area," he pointed with the tip of his fingernail, which Sarah noticed now had been filed to a point. Perhaps that's why Jareth always wore those gloves, "have become overgrown. We'll need to clear those. Finally, in the outreaches of the sector there is a flowerbed that refuses to bloom."

"I say we start from there and work our way back to the castle," Jareth said.

"Actually," Tiberon purred as he dropped the map so that he could scoop up Sarah's hands, "I was rather hoping to take care of everything else and save the flowerbed till last. It's so far out in the sector Jareth and giving you directions would be pointless. I've already surveyed the land, I know just where it is and how to get there. I'm sure Sarah and I could handle it alone, say tomorrow night, after dinner."

The king watched, waiting for her reaction. Sarah was staring into his violet eyes already under his spell, "If it's alright with his majesty."

"You've already made it very clear that you've come here with your free will in tact." Though he tried to act as if her decision mattered less to him than the exact shade of the sky, his inner self struggled to resist the urge to tie her up in Hoggle's stump and keep her there. At the idea of tying her up his mind wandered.

It wasn't until he heard Sarah's sweet voice chime, "In that case I'd love to."

The Goblin King groaned something indistinguishable. "Well then, that's settled. Why not have a hearty lunch before we head out to the houses." Tiberon suggested as he led them back to the main hall and into the other wing of the castle where the kitchen and the dining room were. "Please have a seat," he pulled a chair out for Sarah. Jareth settled for a seat across from the mortal and Tiberon took the head.

Once they were situated, the Representative rang for his staff. One elvish maid came from the kitchen, curtsied and said in fast, frantic words, "My humblest apologies sir, your majesty and milady, but the staff has run a bit behind and your meal is not quite ready. Can I bring you a drink while you wait?"

"Mead all around," Tiberon told her.

As she turned to leave, the king called out, "Make mine a brandy, neat."

The Representative ignored his request. "So Sarah, would you like a tour of my castle while we wait for cook to finish up?"

"Yes, thank you," she accepted eagerly. Tiberon rose and offered her his arm. By the time they reached the door, the king had yet to join them. "Aren't you coming?" Sarah asked.

"No. I think I'll just sit here and wait for my drink, besides, I've seen this place before, I'm sure Tiberon would much rather show it to you."

"Suit yourself."

Jareth slide down in the chair and slung one of his legs over the arm, "Oh Sarah would you like to see the rest of the castle while we leave the king here to twist his hair until we return," he mocked. The servant looked very strangely at him when she returned with his brandy. Setting down the crystal tumbler she poured from the decanter. Replacing the stopper, she stood and began to back away. He lifted his palm to her, causing her to stop. Then he downed the drink in one swallow and handed her back the empty glass. She poured another and again moved to leave. this time Jareth eyed her, then guided the servant's hands until she lowered the decanter to the table and released it to his keeping. Then he let her leave.

Upstairs in the castle, Tiberon made a point of showing Sarah the rooms he had prepared for their stay. Jareth's was at the beginning of the hall nearest the stairs and contained a simple bed with simple coverings, a small bureau and chaise. He let her peek in some of the other rooms, a bath, a workroom, a sitting room, until only two doors remained unopened. One was the room he had prepared for her, the other his chamber. Tiberon opened the door to what would have been her room, there was a bed, with a grand head board, the dressing all pink and white, enough pillows so that she could have slept on those alone. A small dressing table with matching wardrobe. A velvet covered settee and table sat before a small fireplace. Jareth would have been furious if he had seen the differences between their rooms. Through another door in her room they reached a bath. A deep tub was inside, silver, claw footed with a swan's neck faucet. A blue curtain to hide the water closet, a full length mirror and silver wall torches.

"What's through that door," Sarah asked when she noticed another door across the way.

Tiberon opened the door wide, "My room," he said. She looked inside, not really noticing much of what was in the room. Sarah was too distracted that he had put their rooms so close and Jareth's so far away. It frightened her. What did he think? Then again, Jareth had given them adjoining rooms and she hadn't seemed to mind. But that was different, he was trying to make her comfortable, limit her being waited on hand and foot which made her very uncomfortable. Tiberon had servants to cook and to clean, but not in the number the Goblin King had, ready to do everything but breath on your behalf. It seemed more purposeful when Tiberon had done it, more ominous. "I didn't want you to have to wander the halls in your night clothes," he quickly added sensing her hesitation. Rather than reacting the way he had hoped, the idea of her sleeping across the hall from him able to make her way to his bed unnoticed trouble the girl. The Representative practically shoved her back into the hall, "Yes, well, let's see if our meal is ready shall we?"

Back down the hall to the stairs they went, "What's down there?" Sarah asked.

"Those are my servant's quarters."

"Oh," she said trying to seem interested. Tiberon told her a joke as he helped her descend the stairs hoping it would break the tension before they got back to Jareth.

While he'd been waiting for them to return the king had downed three more brandies, each neat, not to mention, he had been joined at the table by a magnificent red head who was hung on his arm when Sarah and Tiberon returned. "And so I said, 'No, no, he was a HOB goblin!'" They both erupted with laughter when they came through the doors into the dining room. Jareth stood as was customary when a lady entered. Tiberon went to great their new guest, "Maeve, darling, so glad you could join us." He kissed her cheek, then went to hold out Sarah's chair.

When they were all seated, Maeve sipped her wine and said, "So you're the Legend I've heard so much about?"

"I suppose I am."

"We have a lot in common you and I," she smiled her wide eyes shining.

"How so?" Sarah asked as their meals were being set before them.

Maeve unfolded her napkin and placed it over her lap, "For one, we both let this slip through our fingers." The fey pawed Jareth openly.

"I wouldn't say I let him slip through my fingers."

"Then what would you say?" Maeve was growing irritated that Sarah was not more upset at her line of conversation, but rather rebutted her statements calmly and evenly.

"I defeated him and was sent home," Sarah looked from Maeve to Jareth and back again. "Tell me, what stopped him from keeping you around?"

The fey laughed uneasily, "Yes, well, we all make choices we sometimes regret, I suppose you can say falling from the king's grace was mine."

"Only that one?" she asked in feigned innocence. Even Jareth had to bite back laughter.

Tiberon put an end to the cat fight, "I was just telling them, I thought we'd go and clear the village after lunch, then maybe the path. Care to join us?"

At that moment Sarah could have reach out and swatted Tiberon. Every male fey in the Underground was smitten by this woman she decided. For whatever reason, none she could see, but every last one of them was concerned with her in some way. Now she was going to spend the day with them. 'Marvelous,' she thought, 'What could be better?'

When lunch had ended and the table was clear, the foursome headed for the village. Maeve hung on Jareth's elbow, which he seemed to neither mind nor find endearing, for the brandy had further muted his normally unexpressive face. Sarah walked along beside Tiberon. Though she didn't know it, the king was keeping a watchful eye on her, or more to the point Tiberon's treatment of her. They came to what looked like a patch of briars. "This is it," the Representative cried. "This used to be a small village, much like Hoggle's with toadstool houses and tree trunks for the larger breeds."

Stepping forward, she hoisted a large branch, not afraid to show Maeve that she could walk like a woman even in a man's shoes. Jareth laughed, "What are you doing?"

"Clearing away this debris," she stated feeling it was rather obvious.

"We'd be here for a month if you did it like that."

"What am I supposed to do?" Intent in their debate, these two were unaware of the Representative's hushed conversations with Maeve in the background.

"What did we spend all night practicing before we came here? Use your magic!"

Jareth should have known better than to get her angry and then tell her to use magic. When Sarah closed her eyes and called upon the wind, a gust with the strength of a hurricane blew up knocking her forward into the king's arms, the second gust knocked them to the ground along with Tiberon and Maeve. "Jareth," she shouted above the wind's roar, "What's happening?"

"It's my fault. Your emotions have a powerful effect on your magic. I shouldn't have told you to do anything while you were angry at me." The debris was tossing all over, spinning, doubling back and heading for the fey and the mortal. "Just calm down."

Sarah's desperate fingers pulled him closer. "I'm frightened."

"There's nothing to be frightened of. Close your eyes," he instructed. "Just listen," he instructed, "think of a warm summer breeze that sweeps over your skin as it carries the stinging rays of the sun's fire away with it. Feel it wind your hair around your face, kissing at your arms." The wind died suddenly, the tree branches and leaves stopping in place and falling to the ground. A very large branch dropped close to Maeve, had Tiberon not shoved her out of the way it may have even hit her. "That's it. You're doing great. Now make it a stronger wind. Imagine you're sweeping all this mess off into the forest with a giant broom." The intensity of the wind began to increase. "Only you've got to be forceful enough to get it to move and gentle enough to leave the houses behind."

It seemed easier doing magic with his tender voice to guide her, his wisdom, his words. Before long the entire village was revealed. Jareth stood and offered Sarah a hand. Tiberon helped Maeve to her feet. Everyone began brushing off. Their clothes need adjusting and their hair was wild. Sarah removed the band from her hair and let it roll from her crown to her shoulders, each lock a perfect spring. Tiberon and Jareth stood mesmerized as she shook her curls free. The king used his magic to reset his mane, while Tiberon tended to his by hand. Maeve's hair had been done up in an intricate twist, most probably by a servant, for she seemed far too high maintenance to do such menial tasks. She tucked a few stray pieces behind her ears, but was unable to do little more to reset her appearance. Tufts of red stuck up in every direction. Secretly the others laughed. Sarah looked at Jareth, wanting to say things her lips refused to repeat, as was usually the case.

Tiberon grabbed her elbow, "Fabulous work," he praised. "Now let me show you the path."

"She's tired Tiberon. That experience was a bit too much for her. The path can wait until tomorrow." Jareth told him. "Give me my mortal so that I can see her home."

"No, I'm fine," she said sternly even though she really wanted to collapse and let the king hoist her in his strong arms and carry her back to Hoggle's stump where she could sleep for hours undisturbed. She wouldn't admit to that though, not with Maeve there, watching, waiting for her to show some weakness, some short coming that she could exploit. Damned if she'd give her the chance. So on they pressed on, almost a mile to the paths. Sarah's legs were weak and shaking by the time they reached the overgrown section, but Tiberon barely noticed as he prattled on about his sector and himself, but Jareth observed carefully while he tried to drown out Maeve's stories. Bringing up forgotten bouts of lovemaking here and there along the way. Sarah overheard each one, but did her best not to whip around and ask embarrassing qualifying questions.

"There it is milady, do your worst," Tiberon stepped back, fearful that her sometimes clumsy magic might choose him for the unwitting victim once more.

This time she thought carefully before she did anything. Jareth mistook her hesitation and rushed to her side. His hand rested at the small of her back, "What's wrong?"

"I'm just thinking. In my world, they'll sometimes set controlled fires to burn out a section of forest. Do you think I could control fire well enough to burn back these brambles?"

"It's not what I think that matters. It's what you think."

She smiled up at him resting her hand in his, which lay palm up before her as part of a gesture he had made while he had been speaking. Even here with Tiberon looking on, his angry eyes a deeper shade of purple than usual, and Maeve's wicked stare burning into their backs, even here she craved Jareth. Maeve was disgusted at the gentility he was showing her, the soft and subtle kindness. It had all been hers once, but she had thrown it away. Tiberon remained angry that there was anything between them at all. This would make his job far harder. He had expected to need to win her interest, but not her heart.

When Jareth stepped away, Sarah began her slow process of summoning the fire. She pictured a match, struck by her father's hand, and left to fall into a campfire. The way the flames licked at the kindling until it grew powerful enough to consume even the thickest logs. Her face dripped with perspiration and her hair blew in the backdraft of the flames which neatly carved out the paths before them. In her mind she kept the campfire blazing, never allowing it the freedom to rage out of control, carefully monitoring every ember that blew into the wind, being sure to watch the glow die before the grey ash settled to the forest floor. The spell ended the same way, reversing the energy, reducing the flame as it burnt out all of the kindling, no more than a dying coal now, easily stomped out, left to smolder and eventually cease. When her eyes opened, she gawked at what she saw. Had it really been her magic that did this?

The paths before her were bare and easily maneuverable while the wildlife to either side remained untouched, still green, remarkably healthy. Jareth stood back, arms folded across his chest beaming with pride at what she had been able to accomplish. Tiberon ran up to her lifting her in his arms as he had done the day they first met and spinning her in circles as he showered her in accolades. When her feet touched the ground once more he kissed her. Not as passionately as he had the first day, but far more passionately than she would have liked for him to do in front of Jareth.

The king pretended not to notice as he went to offer his hand to Maeve who had strewn herself across the grass in boredom at being forced to sit through these shenanigans. "Jareth," she cooed when she finally bothered to noticed the cleared paths. "Let's go down to the stream. Remember when you took me there. It was such a hot day, at first I only put my toes in the water, but then you convinced me to," she giggled, "well you remember. Oh, please, let's go. I'll let you convince me again."

"The stream bed is dried up Maeve."

"Who cares. It's not like we need a stream, used to be we only needed something I could lie on or lean against. What has that girl done to you?"

The Goblin King was staring at Sarah and Tiberon, infuriated by the closeness she allowed him to achieve, curious if she afforded everyone the privileges she had afforded him. This was unacceptable. This was an outrage. He stomped his boots on the ground, hoping that it caused the underearth to quiver, to warn Tiberon he was on his way, but as he got closer he saw that Sarah was not cuddling into the Representatives arms, but dependant upon them instead.

"I…I was just going to walk her to the stream bed and she collapsed." His voice didn't hold near the fear it should have for someone who was holding the unconscious body of a woman he supposedly cared for or at least wanted others to believe that he cared for.

Jareth took the mortal from Tiberon's arms. His elbow at her waist, he supported her back with his arm and her neck in his hand. "She's still breathing." The Goblin King scowled at Tiberon. "I told you she had done enough for one day's time, but you insisted on pushing her on and on. Are you trying to kill her?" The Representative shook his head side to side adding a bit of drummed up fear for effect. He hadn't really thought about it, but sure why not? If the mortal died he accomplished most of his goal anyway. The kingdom would still be his, but then what would be the fun of it? Jareth wouldn't get to watch on as the woman he loved defeated him once more, this time with Tiberon at her side. "Sarah. Sarah." Her name echoed in the trees, but not so much as a flutter of her eyelids. Jareth produced a crystal in his hand. "Sarah, I know you can hear me. I want you to wish for water Sarah. Wish for a glass of water." The orb glowed bright blue and took on it's new shape. The glass was cold, drenched with condensation. The king lifted it to her lips and helped her sip the refreshing liquid inside.

When Sarah's eyes started to blink, she tried to shove Jareth away, not remembering where she was or what had happened. Refusing to let go, he settled for finding a rock where he let her sit and helped her to the ground. "What happened?" she stammered.

"You just pushed yourself too hard." His leather glove smoothed back her hair. "Keep sipping the water and we'll go home. You've done enough for one day."

"She ought to stay at the castle," Tiberon argued. "It's far too far away taking her to the dwarf's place."

"My powers are fully restored, taking her there would be as easy as transporting her to Greece." The Representative curled his lip. Jareth only smiled. Sarah finished the water and the glass disappeared like a soap bubble when she set it on the ground. The king knelt at her side. "Feeling better?"

"A little, but I still don't feel right. Can we please go back to Hoggle's?"

"As you wish," he reassured her as he lifted her into his arms. Tiberon looked at Jareth with hate in his eyes. "If you'll excuse me, I must get milady home. I trust that you'll see to your other guest." The king was well aware Maeve's presence had not been a happy accident. They too disappeared as quickly as the empty glass.

"What did you do?" Hoggle demanded as he attached himself to Jareth's heels. "I told you not to take yer eyes off her and you bring her back like this!"

Ignoring the dwarf, he made his way to the spare room where the mortal slept. He shoved Hoggle out of the room and closed the door. "She's sleeping." The king was about to tell him how Tiberon had been behaving during their visit, but he saw Drema only a few steps behind her husband, her face twisted in concern, her child in her arms and thought it best not to. "The repairs in the southeast sector required her to use a good bit of magic and she over did it."

Sarah One wriggled free of her mother's arms and flew to the feet of the king. Her tiny fists repeatedly pummeled his leather boots. "Whaddid you do to my Sarah? Whaddid you do?"

With a tenderness Hoggle never knew the king possessed, Jareth lifted the child, her rump resting on his forearm. His free hand wiped away the stains that scattered her cheeks. "Your Sarah is just fine. We were in the woods burning a path through the overgrowth and it got very hot."

"How hot?" she grumbled, tears still racing down her chubby cheeks.

"So hot, the sky was melting," he told her like it was a fairy tale, which of course it was, but there's no sense in arguing semantics. "And you see, little one, humans are very susceptible to heat. It can cause them to drip with water or become incredibly grumpy and sometimes they even have to go to sleep."

"She passed out," Hoggle mumbled to Drema who then went into the girl's room with a glass of water in case she woke up. While she was in there she opened the window so Sarah would stay cool. Her body was so still her breath coming in deep steady streams. Her skin terribly flush.

When she emerged from the room with all eyes on her she said, "Sarah will be fine. Nothing to worry about. She just needs to rest." Truthfully she didn't know that. For once she was taking the word of the king hopeful that what she had seen in him had been a true change and not one of his tricks or one of his spells.

Drema went to make dinner insisting that Sarah One come help her. "You're old enough to help with chores," she said when the girl began to whine.

"It's not fair," Sarah One protested. Jareth smiled.

He and Hoggle sat in the living room as the king retold the story this time adding in that Tiberon had invited Maeve to the house, that he had been the one to push Sarah to her breaking point and that he had kissed her shamelessly right in front of him. Hoggle listened intently, anger filling him from head to toe. "I'll take my axe out there right now. I'll send a message to Gandor. He was warned!"

"No sense. It's not you nor Gandor or even Sarah that he wants. It's me." Jareth's leather gloves rolled hand over fist. "I don't think he realizes what he's asking for, but if it's what he wants. It's what he shall have."

"Dinner's about ready, if one of you wouldn't mind going to check on our sleeping beauty.

Hoggle looked at the king who seemed to be itching to get out of his seat. Jareth observed that the dwarf had equal enthusiasm to tackle the task. "You do it," Hoggle told him. The king's eyes grew soft. If nothing else would be accomplished in the southeast at least these two would reach an understanding.

Still tucked into bed, Sarah's raven hair framed her pale face, it's usual healthy glow gone for the time being, replaced by more of a white wash that did very little to detract from her beauty. Jareth reached out to stroke her hair, tucking some strays behind her ears. She didn't stir, didn't even blink. Her chest continued it's monotonous rise and fall. Pressing his lips against her forehead, he could tell that her body temperature had regulated. 'Best I let her rest,' he thought. He wanted to stay, vigilant at her bedside until she felt well enough to open her eyes and speak to him. Until he could hear from her lips that she was alrght, but Drema was expecting him briefly, with or without Sarah. Softly he called her name, "Sarah." When she didn't answer he turned to go. At the door he glanced back one last time before creeping back into the hall where Hoggle was waiting.

"Well?"

"Still asleep. I'd rather not wake her. She probably needs the rest after the day she's had."

"You shouldn'ta let her do everything he asked."

"If you haven't notice by now, I rather doubt you ever will, but no one lets that girl do anything. Furthermore no one stops her from doing as she pleases either."

"Do you still love her?" Hoggle asked.

"What?"

"You heard me. Do you still love her?"

The king's lips did not move, his eyes unable to blink, for an instant it seemed as if his heart had forgotten how to beat. "She's only here for another month, doesn't matter how I feel. She'll be going when her times up."

"That's the most cowardly way of admittin' it that I kin think of. I expected more from you, something grand and theatrical, but this...this takes the cake." The dwarf started walking away from him, toward the dining room, mumbling something the whole way about renaming him the Chicken King and no one would ever know, what with all those blasted chickens running loose. Then Jareth's fey hearing heard words no one ever challenged him with before. "Why not just admit yer in love with the girl?"

"Hoggle," the dwarf paused. "I loved her once, rather a long time ago."

"That was then, this is now...I know, spare me the details."

"And that love has spanned all these many years. Though I would never admit it to her. Though I would never make her choose between her life and mine, her world and ours. I do still love that girl. Try as I have to keep hold of my soul, it belongs to her and her alone, from now until I die and sometimes I pray that will be soon after her departure; despite my efforts and the lengths to which I've gone, she owns my soul, owns it while it's still inside me. Do you know what that's like? Do you have any idea how painful it is to be in constant conflict with yourself? There are times I should be livid, barking at her like she were some disobedient goblin, but I find myself at the same time eager to run to her side and offer her her dreams." A wistful calm had manipulated his face into something far off and dream like. "But I did that once, more than once and she refused me. We've come to terms with one another now. We agree that each of us finds the other attractive, suitable as a..." The Goblin King stumbled for words.

"Just say it," Hoggle sighed.

"As a mate. We've agreed to enjoy each others' company for as long as we have it."

"And when she returns Aboveground with your soul, then what?"

"I'd rather not discuss these things, especially with you."

"Have it yer way. I'm just tryin' to look out for you. Wouldn't want to see her fall for Tiberon on accounta not knowin' you were in love with her, but don't mind me." Again he tried to strand Jareth in the hall.

"I haven't, as of yet, given her my soul in a physical sense. As long as I manage to retain my physical soul her returning Aboveground won't kill me."

"You mean to tell me, you haven't, even though you've..."

Jareth shook his head, "Every time."

"Every time? Whattya mean every time?" He narrowed his eyes on the king, "Exactly how many times have there been?" Jareth moved his lips to speak, "Never mind I don't want to know. So fine, she goes Aboveground without your entire physical soul and you get to live, it's a far cry better for you than the alternative, but you already admitted that she holds your soul anyway."

"Yes."

"So you'll live, but you'll wish you were dead. Left here all the rest of your immortal days unable to love anyone but her, a woman you can never have, a face you can never see."

"It's my cross to bear. She'll return home, no more aware of my feelings than when she arrived, she'll go on with her life without feeling any obligation to me and I will, well I'll find something to do. I am king after all. An entire kingdom is dependent upon me for," he stopped what he had been saying. For what? They no longer faced the threat of invasion, the raids were long since put to rest. None but he really kept an army and so anyone who tried at attack would be promptly dealt with. The title king had become a figure head more or less, but someone had to do it and it might as well be him.

"What if she feels the same way about you only she's scared to admit it?" Hoggle asked after Jareth's long silence.

"Do you know something?"

Hoggle shrugged, "Just suppose."

"Her love would need to be a true love. The Triumvirate would only allow her to remain if it was. A fey and a mortal are no longer permitted to reside in this realm under the guise of school girl crushes and fleeting infatuations. How many mortals have ever found true love?"

"Well I don't know if it's you. I sure as hell know it's not Tiberon, but if ever a mortal was born who deserved to find true love, it's my Sarah. And if ever a mortal was born who was capable of true love..."

"'Tis her as well. Come now, your wife will know we're up to something if she doesn't see us at her table soon."

After supper was eaten and the dishes washed and put away, the small family and their royal guest sat around the fire playing board games, one after the other until Sarah One let out a mighty yawn. "Time for bed munchkin," Hoggle told her.

"I'm not sleepy," she grumbled, her eyes closing.

"No, then why are you closin' yer eyes?"

"I'm inspecting my eyelids for cracks."

Jareth laughed, "That's a good one. She's funny Hoggle."

Proud of herself, now that she had managed to attract the king's attention, Sarah One was ready to bargain. "I'll go to bed if the Goblin King tells me a bed time story."

All eyes were now on Jareth. "Well, I suppose that's a fair deal." He stood up from the rather cozy position he'd gotten into on the floor and reached for her small hand. Hoggle and Drema watched them as they toddled away, dragging the king down the hall and giggling. Jareth looked over his shoulder when he became aware of the audience. "What?" he insisted, "It's not as though I've never taken care of children before." True, just no one had ever really witnessed it.

Back in her room Sarah One made the Goblin King turn around so she could slip into her pajamas and then showed him just how she liked to be tucked in. He perched in her bedside chair and began the tale. "This is a very special bedtime story. One I have never told to anyone before. It's just for you. Okay?" The tiny girl, now bundled beneath enough blankets to make her seem no larger than a pea shook her head vehemently. "Good. Once upon a time, a long, long time ago there lived a girl named Sarah. She lived in a big house with her father and her step-mother and her half brother named Toby. She was fairly unhappy with her life as all teenagers tend to be, but Sarah was different. For what no one knew was that the king of the goblins had fallen in love with the girl and he had given her certain powers..."

Not long after, Jareth felt eyes on him, coming from the door of the small girl's room. He turned to see his mortal Sarah in the doorway. "Go on," she urged him, "I'm rather curious to see how this one turns out."

"I would think you ought to know."

Sarah One scuttled out from under the covers, "Sarah Two! You're awake. Are you all better now?"

"I'm fine, thank you."

"I'm glad, but um, Sarah?"

She moved closer to the now whispering child, "What sweetie?"

"Could you go away so the Goblin King will finish my bedtime story?" Her tiny hand cupped her mouth and she added, "It's just for me about another Sarah. He sure does like our name"

"Oh, I see. Sure precious, just let me get my goodnight kiss and you can have the Goblin King all to yourself." Sarah leaned down. Jareth moved in to kiss her, but quickly realized that it wasn't him she intended to kiss goodnight. "Love you, Sarah One."

"Love you, Sarah Two. See you at breakfast."

Sarah shook her head, smiled at Jareth and pausing at the door, she blew him a kiss just before she left the room. In the kitchen she fixed herself a sandwich and a glass of milk. She felt ridiculously well rested and ravenous. A smile was adhered to her lips thinking of the way Jareth had reacted to her comment about a kiss goodnight, but given their ritual at the castle, it wasn't completely unexpected. Somehow though, she couldn't bring herself to do it, not in Hoggle's house. It seemed disrespectful in a way. She thought about the plans she made with Tiberon, promising to have dinner with him. Remembering what Hoggle had brought up about their first encounter, recalling how he had pushed her so hard today in the woods, made her wonder why she had agreed to this at all. He'd kissed her today almost like he had back then. Perhaps it was just his way of showing appreciation. As for her bout of exhaustion, she could have stopped herself if she hadn't been so inspired by seeing Maeve go green. He deserved a chance she decided. It was a harmless dinner. Then why did it feel so much like a date? She needed to be there anyway to cast the spells and perform the repairs. Then why did they need to be alone?

In the middle of this argument with herself, Jareth came into the kitchen and sat with her. "Feeling better are we?"

"I feel like Rip Van Winkle," she kidded.

"How'd you meet him?" the king asked.

Sarah's mouth hung open in shock, not believing that he was a resident of the Underground as well. At her vexation, Jareth chortled, giving himself away. "You," she growled.

"Not hungry?" he asked looking at the sandwich. Only two bites had been taken out of the top edge.

She shrugged, "I was. Then I just started thinking what a fool I must have made of myself today when we were with Tiberon and Maeve." Despite her best efforts, the alluring fey's name took on a certain tone.

"I had no idea she would be there."

"You didn't seem to mind."

"Suppose I didn't really. If the southeast is where she's chosen to live and Tiberon whom she's chosen to befriend then I imagine I should be prepared to encounter her when I visit there."

"How do you do that?"

"Do what?" he asked.

"Pretend like you don't care about someone you used to love."

"Who says I'm pretending?" That's right. Now Sarah saw what it was Maeve meant when she said they had something in common. This was it. "Let's not argue. Maeve is part of my past."

"But I'm part of your past too Jareth and I've come back again. Haven't you ever heard the expression, when your past comes back to haunt you?"

"Is Maeve haunting me?"

"I don't know, that's what I'm asking you." She bit into her sandwich. "Never mind, forget I said anything."

"She really upsets you doesn't she? Why is that?" His voice was tender and his tone sincere.

"I don't like how she is with you. Always hanging on your arm and making innuendoes, it's...it's, well it's just not right if there really isn't anything left between you two."

"Really?"

"Well yes. Any self respecting woman wouldn't do those kinds of things with a man they had no feelings for." He raised his eyebrow at her, giving her a look that said, 'Then explain us.' "It's different for you and me," she began as if she'd heard his thoughts, "you were in love with me once." She took another bite of the sandwich giving herself time to remember that he had loved Maeve too. "And you were in love with her once too, I forgot. See, so never mind, we won't talk about it anymore."

They sat in silence as she finished her sandwich. Jareth made a cup of chamomile tea and traded it for her milk. "You need your rest for tomorrow. This will put you back to sleep," he told her as he sipped the milk. "Eew! How do you people drink this foul tasting liquid?" When her tea was gone, he shut out the light and headed for bed. He was sleeping on a sofa in the living room. Sarah stayed at the table in the dark, "Not going to bed?" he asked her.

"No, I'm going," she said, now that his question had interrupted her thinking. She walked to the hall but before she left the living room she called back, "Goodnight Jareth."

Instantly he was at her side, the king kissed her forehead and said, "For what it's worth, it is different between you and I." Just as quickly as he had come he was gone. Sarah shuffled back to her room and lied awake in her bed. Not even a pot of chamomile tea would have put her to sleep.

Immediately after breakfast, they transported to Tiberon's castle. Jareth insisted that they head to the stream right away and then return for lunch before Sarah went off to tend the flowerbed. That would give her a chance to rest and perhaps they would not have a repeat performance of the prior day's events. Tiberon objected, wanting more alone time with the mortal, but Jareth was unwilling to budge. Off they went, this time without Maeve. Her absence pleased Sarah and though he didn't let on it pleased Jareth too.

"Here we are," Tiberon said as they reached the dried out stream bed. "Work you magic."

Sarah breathed deep, remaining calm was key. She learned that yesterday. In her mind she pictured a window, her on the inside looking out and it was raining, as it always seemed to do where she lived as a girl. One droplet went racing down the glass, joining with another, gathering weight, traveling faster and joining with another still until it seemed as if the entire mass of aggregate droplets had mustered together into a raging stream along the pane. "Open your eyes," Jareth told her.

The bed was filled with water flowing along like liquid sky. Kicking off a sandal, Sarah dipped in her toes. Jareth watched, flashbacks of the waterfall playing tricks with his mind. "It's not even cold," she marveled.

"Will you never cease to amaze me, my angel?" Tiberon asked Sarah.

She only looked at him. What was that supposed to mean? "Jareth taught me; otherwise, I wouldn't be able to help anyone."

Tiberon approached his fellow fey "How can I thank you then?"

"Thank me?"

"Yes, for bringing me this miracle."

"Don't thank me. I was ordered to bring her here by the Triumvirate. If it weren't for them I'd never have let her step foot here."

Tiberon smirked, "Then I shall write them a letter, expressing my gratitude. I shall shout it from the tree tops. Thank the Supreme One for Sarah Williams."

Sarah paid him no mind, only stared at her reflection in the water, "Like a mirror isn't?" She saw pools of violet inside the blue.

"More like one of Jareth's crystals," she replied.

Tiberon's lips curled, "Right, you're right."

Sarah didn't see Tiberon's image with his lip held tight in an arc, didn't hear the way he conceded to agree with her. She was busily thinking about what it was that Maeve and Jareth had done here, perhaps in this very spot. It was scenic, the kind of place she thought two people could get overcome by certain urges. "I'm feeling tired, do you think we could go back now?"Sarah asked, wanting to be away from this place where she was reminded of Maeve's tasteless tales.

"Absolutely," Jareth agreed stepping up to them. The three walked back to Tiberon's castle where Sarah watched the men engage in a game of chess. For as much concentration that went into every move she would have swore that Jareth's kingdom hung in the balance. On several occasions one of them would take over ten minutes just to move a single pawn. After lunch, Jareth suggested that Tiberon take Sarah to this flowerbed that had yet to bloom. Of course, Tiberon objected saying he had planned to take her there after supper. Jareth reminded him of how weary she had grown yesterday and told him that were such a thing to happen again, he would hold the Representative fully responsible.

"Then I suppose we should go now before it grows to late. We can always have dinner when we get back."

"Good," Jareth told him. "That being settled I'm heading back to the castle. I'll be back to collect my mortal as night falls. If you run in to any trouble have Hoggle sent for me." At no time during this parting speech did he look at Sarah, for if he had, he would have found himself unable to leave. Rather he said what was to be said and vanished.

"Well milady, care to meet your next challenge." Sarah took Tiberon's arm and allowed him to lead her back into the woods. Her smile was faint. Suddenly, without Jareth she felt incredibly ill at ease alone with Tiberon. The walked on passed the village, which overnight had filled with new residents, down the paths, along the stream for nearly two miles. It was a beautiful walk. Everything lush and green in every direction. Butterflies filling the sky and birds singing down from the tree tops. The temperature just right, not hot, not chilly. The sleeveless green dress she'd chosen, was quite adequate for the weather. Along their way Tiberon talked and Sarah humored him by not interrupting and smiling when he laughed. But she had very little to say. He tried to ask her questions, forcing her to get involved in the conversation. Most of his questions were about Jareth or his kingdom and Sarah's answers were often short when she had answers at all. He was asking her things she didn't know, couldn't possibly. About his armies and about his business practices. She didn't like it

Relief swept over her in the breeze as they came upon the flowerbed. It wasn't hard to pick out the damaged spot, a sea of mangled dried stems and leaves in the middle of such healthy green would have been like spotting an elephant in the living room. "I don't understand," the Representative said. "I've had elves bringing water to them everyday and yet they refuse to grow for me."

Sarah didn't understand how it was that he'd have gotten elves through the overgrown path with buckets of water or where they'd have gotten the water to fill the buckets without the stream. Surely they weren't filled at the castle faucets and dragged all this way by petite elves. From what she had noticed he had only woman elves at his dispose and only four, no five, of them. Regardless, she closed her eyes and pictured a garden. The garden the Leanan Sidhe had planted for her dead husband. She tried to recall each type of flower that had grown there, it's precise color, the feel of it's petals in her finger tips. She thought about the cool damp soil below and the sweet caressing sun above. When she heard Tiberon's child like laughter, Sarah opened her eyes.

"You've done it!" He announced gleefully. "You are more than just the legend these creatures have made you out to be. You are a marvel, in this world or in any other." Before the mortal could finish admiring the gigantic blooms that had newly sprouted before her, she was swept into his arms, hoisted high once more and spun until she was dizzy. "Sarah, how can I ever repay you for what you've done for me, for my sector." Then his lips were upon hers. A powerful kiss that threw her head back. A passionate kiss she felt obligated to return, for when someone kissed you with that kind of intensity, it was almost rude not to.

She broke the kiss awkwardly when thoughts of Jareth began to overwhelm her with guilt. "We should be heading back. I'm feeling a bit weak from..."

"Say no more, love," Tiberon told her, assuming it was his kiss that had weakened her when in fact it had been the magic. Encircling her waist with his arm he guided Sarah back to his castle. It made her somewhat uncomfortable, but Sarah didn't argue, only relied on him for support where her shaking legs could give her none.

Once they arrived at his home, the fey convinced her to lie down in the room he had prepared for her, just until she felt strong enough to join him for dinner. Peculiar enough she found bed clothes laid out for her when she arrived. On the edge of the bed she sat with the white chemise in her hand. Oh, Tiberon was charming, just as beguiling as Jareth told her he could be. And she had fallen for it. Defended him, trusted him and she saw now what it had gotten her. Nightfall couldn't come soon enough. Then, before she could think anymore, she fell asleep with the gown in her hand.

Dreams filled her head in the hours that passed, dreams of a redheaded woman, dreams of Maeve. Sarah prayed Jareth wouldn't make a cameo appearance. She watched as Maeve laughed and danced, spun about the room, this room by an unseen party. The look on her face one of shear joy. Her head tossed back and Sarah was given the impression of lips upon her neck. Not Jareth's, she knew the feel of Jareth's lips against her throat and this wasn't it. Black hair soon proved her point as she saw it linger on Maeve's pale skin. Violet eyes settled on hers and any question that remained was quieted. It had been Tiberon with Maeve in this room. 'Dear God,' Sarah thought, 'please wake me up, please!' Mercifully sleep released it's hold on the mortal. She sat up in the bed and pondered why Maeve would make her self so blatantly available to the king when she had obviously had Tiberon, and if Sarah was guessing, Ranofyr too. This settled it, Tiberon was not to be trusted. His involvement with Maeve, his constant questions about Jareth. He was up to no good and Sarah wouldn't be a part of it. "Let me just make it to sun down," she prayed aloud. "Just until Jareth can get here."

Tiberon entered her room through the door to the bath that lie between their chambers. "I see you're awake. Feeling better?" Sarah faked a yawn and shook her head. "Then allow me to accompany to you dinner milady."

While she slept, the dream had revealed much to the mortal, she knew now that the fey who Hoggle and the king had tried to warn her about had yet to rear his ugly head. Tiberon needed to be handled with great care, at least for the last few hours of the day. In the dining room, he pulled out her chair. Set before her was an empty plate and a full goblet of wine. Tiberon took his seat at the head of the table, he rang a bell and his maids brought dinner a course at a time. From hors d'oeuvres through to desert they engaged in idle chit chat. Sarah did her best to keep him off the topics like Jareth, Jareth's castle, the Underground and its armies.

By the time she was brought a helping of peach cobbler, Sarah suddenly began to feel very tired. The room began to spin and she held her head. Once before she had felt this same way. Green eyes began to close as she pleaded for some sort of help. Just before the room went black, she thought she saw Tiberon sneer.

As promised Jareth arrived on Tiberon's doorstep precisely as night fell. He knocked once upon the door. No one answered. Patiently, which was rare for Jareth, he stood a moment or two, then knocked again, harder this time. It was the Representative who met him at the door, clad in a black smoking jacket, his hair tousled, eyes sleepy. "No doorman Tiberon."

"I am a humble fey Jareth. I am no king." He rose his hands to smooth back his hair. "Besides, in my generosity I have given my staff the evening to themselves."

"I don't particularly care. I have come to collect my mortal. Bring her to me."

"Oh, yes, well I'm afraid that isn't terribly convenient right now. She's resting."

Jareth edged his way into the castle, "Convenience has never been a high priority of mine. It is night fall and I have come to collect my mortal. I won't leave without her so whatever it is you have planned is officially ended." His eyes scanned the great hall before the king headed to the dining room, what little patience he had, now spent.

"You won't find her there."

Like an aggravated viper, the king turned on him, "Where will I find her?"

Tiberon pointed upstairs, a self satisfied grin manipulating his lips. It was all the encouragement Jareth needed. His long legs took the stairs three to a gait, the heals of his boots tapping on the stone and echoing in the emptiness all around them. It had occurred to him to burst open every door until he found her, but instead, on a hunch, he marched to the end of the hall and threw open Tiberon's chamber door. His mortal lie beneath the duvet. Immediately the king recognized the gentle creamy curve of her shoulder. By then the Representative was already in the doorway behind him. "I told you this wasn't terribly convenient."

Never looking at him, Jareth only waved his hand, materializing a blanket and walked slowly to the bed. Pulling back the duvet he scanned her naked body from head to toe. So beautiful, so perfect, the kind of beauty that Tiberon could never appreciate, the kind of perfection he would never have deserved. Covering her in the blanket, Jareth hoisted her into his arms. Her head lulled side to side as though she were in a deep sleep. When he passed the Representative, Tiberon couldn't resist the urge to make one final pointed comment. "I told her it had been a hard day with all the magic she had used. Tried to reassure her that we had all the time in the world to, well you know what I'm getting at, but she insisted."

Though the Representative tried his best to get in Jareth's way, to force him to meet his violet eyes, the king had a mission from which he refused to waiver. As he descended the stairs, Sarah's eyes fluttered open. She nuzzled against his neck and whispered his name. It broke his heart to hear this now, when she had just been with Tiberon. He walked with more purpose, longer strides, prepared to walk her all the way back to the castle, the weight of her limp body no more encumbering than air. "Ah, your majesty," Tiberon called just as he was pulling open the front door, "I trust you'll be back in the morning. After all the order of the Triumvirate does say that I have rights to her for a minimum of forty-eight hours."

Finally ready to meet his stare with a rather stern mismatched blue steely gaze of his own Jareth lowered his voice to a growl. "You have no right to this woman. You never did; and as long as my blood flows iron free, you won't ever again. Not the Triumvirate, not the Supreme One himself, will ever convince me otherwise."

"Where will you take her?"

"I'm taking her home." Wits about him once again, Jareth transported them both to the castle, tucking her safely into her bed and calling upon Arulan to see that she was dressed appropriately.

Back at his castle Tiberon returned to his second story. Rather than entering his suite he entered the room which had been set aside for Sarah in the first place. "Well," came a voice from deep beneath the covers on the bed.

"The king is convinced," he responded.

"You must have given quite the performance."

Tiberon pounced on the bed, covering Maeve's face in quick hungry kisses. "Without you to help me appear to be a fey who had just engaged in the satisfying pursuit and capture of a wild, spirited woman, I couldn't have done it."

"You're welcome," she told him returning his kiss. "Anything I can do to remind Jareth that ours was the last real love he would ever know."

"But I thought you didn't really love him?"

"He didn't give me time to realize that I really loved him," she pouted.

Tiberon looked down his nose at her, "You sure you don't just want him now because at long last he wants someone else again."

"You're a fine one to criticize a person who hungers for the things the king has."

"Ah, but for right now, it is not the king who has you. As of this minute, you are all I want." His lips covered hers as he pulled the duvet back over her head.


	26. Chapter 26

**CHAPTER TWENTY SIX - JARETH AND SARAH GET IN THE RING**

Arulan entered Sarah's room with a fresh tray. "Rise and shine Miss Sarah," she set the tray on her bedside table. "Miss Sarah?" Worried by her failure to receive a response, Arulan shook the mortal. "Good heavens! Your majesty! Your majesty!" It was a shrill cry, a voice filled with horror and fear.

Jarth appeared instantly at Sarah's bedside. His servant did not cry out for no reason, let alone the kind of howl she had just unleashed. "What is it?"

"She won't wake up." By then Arulan had begun to shake with fear.

"Calm yourself woman." The king redirected his attention to the mortal in the bed. "Sarah. Sarah, you need to get up now. Arulan has brought you breakfast." She didn't move, not a bat of the eyelashes, not a twitch of the nose. His gloved hands held her face, Jareth's thumbs pulled back her eyelids. Nothing but white stared back at him. He cursed himself for not better observing her last night when he was still angry at what she had done. Tiberon had told him she was tired and weak. Whatever he had forced her to do had probably put her in harm's way. "Call for the healer."

"Jareth, what's happening?"

"Call for the healer!" When he turned to face her, Arulan could see the glassy shimmer of tears resting in his eyes.

Jareth sat in his office with Deverell going over the week's happenings, waiting for Arulan to tell him the healer had arrived. "So as you can see your grace, little actually transpired this week, but there are a stack of requests from the goblins which need your signature."

"Give them whatever they want," Jareth waved his hand.

"Do you really think that's wise your grace?"

For a long time the king did not reply. He certainly didn't feel wise. He didn't feel like he was in a position to make any decision, not even the simplest. Everything Hoggle had warned him about had come to pass. Jareth had failed to tell Sarah she still held his heart and Tiberon used it to his advantage. Losing his kingdom was devastating in a physical, visual sense. Losing his mortal was worse on a personal level. Yet for the first time since he had been made aware of her existence he hated her. Hated the thought of having to take her from Tiberon's bed. Hated the thought that his Representative had seen her at her most raw, her most vulnerable. Jareth was an educated man, well aware that his mortal did not return to him an unclaimed beauty. He believed in his heart that when she returned to New York she would know men since him, but how he had prayed that he would be her only one in this world. For a time he even let himself believe that she would want that too.

"Deverell," he asked, "do you think yourself a reasonable man?"

"Your grace?"

"Do you believe yourself to be a man of reason, a man capable of determining what should be done based on the good of a whole and not some wayward emotion toward one or a few?"

"Aye."

The edge of the riding crop slid the stack of requests in the direction of his assistant, "Then I trust that you will be able to make good decisions where these are concerned."

"Your grace?"

"Perhaps when the healer gets here, I should have him take a look at your hearing. Deverell, I'm tired. Having a mortal in my world has been more exhausting than I imagined. The Cleric has sent me a smart boy, you may not be much with a sword, but you are a smart boy. When this started I told you I would expect you to handle all things trivial while I am otherwise occupied, I intend to keep my word. Goblins are a greedy sort. I'm sure they've asked for everything under the sun in those letters and have probably sworn that I would approve, if I weren't so busy, like rampant children whose parents are vacationing and have left them with a tenderhearted, but enabling aunt. I expect you'll look beyond that and make good, solid, educated decisions. Just don't make it seem too much like this kingdom could survive without me."

"Yes your grace," the king's words filled him with a confidence he had as of yet to show. The display reaffirmed for Jareth he had made the right decision.

"Well then, my work here is done." He left the young fey to the business he had given him and wandered the halls like a lost child until he came by the music room. Suddenly he knew where it was he felt he had to be. This room had been a special place for both of them in her early days at the castle. At the piano his fingers caressed the keys. Unknowingly he'd begun to play the song they danced to the night before the ball. What a night it had been. If ever he had felt like he could have given himself away, it was seeing how she had trusted him. Soon his normally gentle hands pounded off the keys. Why would she give that kind of trust to Tiberon? How could she want him to thrill her the way Jareth had taken such pride in doing? He had a number of questions to ask her when she awoke, and not a desire to hear any of the answers.

It was well into the afternoon by the time the healer arrived. While Sarah had tossed and turned a little she had not yet become fully awake. Arulan sent for Jareth. He burst through the chamber doors in the middle of the healer's examination.

"You're majesty, how nice of you to join us." The healer packed away a few of his instruments and turned to inquire of the king, "Has she been using magic?"

"Some I suppose. Only what has been necessary to perform the repairs requested by the Representatives of the eastern sectors."

"Complicated spells?"

"Not that I am aware."

"Doesn't matter. If I had to guess, and obviously I have to, she's not yet used to magic, probably hasn't used it before she wound up here. I'm sure she just didn't realize how much it would drain her."

Remembering this morning and the way Sarah's eyes had rolled back in her head, Jareth looked again. This time he was met by two soft green pools searching blankly for something to see. "Is there any evidence that she's been," Jareth struggled to complete his thought.

"Drugged?" the healer asked. "Nothing obvious, but if you're aware of something I should be looking for, it would be important to her treatment that you tell me."

The king argued with himself, swearing the girl would need to be drugged to concede to taking up space in that mongrel's bed. For a minute, he even entertained the idea of having his healer examine the girl for signs of having been forced upon, but instead he weakly grumbled, "No, nothing that I am aware of."

"Okay then, the prognosis is good. Let her sleep until she wakes up on her own. If you notice anything peculiar, you know how to reach me."

"Thank you," Arulan told him. Jareth remained silent. Turning to his majesty, she asked, "Would you like for me to arrange it so that someone is here in the event the mortal wakes up?"

Jareth's eyes were cold upon her, "In the event?"

"Goodness me, I'm sorry. When…when she wakes up. I don't know where my head is."

"No Arulan, that won't be necessary. This happened while we were away, if she rises true to form, she'll come down for food. We'll notice her then. Just let her rest."

"Jareth, you're not telling me something," he looked at her in blatant admission of his guilt and yet his eyes begged to understand how she had come to know him so well. "We've spent too many years together for you to try and get away without me knowing," she said as if she had read his mind.

"Not here Arulan. Come join me in the sitting room and we'll talk." Never before had it been so easy to convince him to share things with her. She knew immediately whatever weighed on his mind was heavy. Opening a door to one of the upstairs sitting rooms, Jareth allowed Arulan passed. She took a seat in a wing back chair near the window. Jareth joined her in a matching chair opposite a table painted as a chessboard. A small drawer along the side contained all of the pieces for a game, but there would be no game between them. "You know that I returned to the castle for some time yesterday."

"I was informed."

"Yes, well Tiberon requested the mortal join him alone for dinner and then accompany him into the forest to cast a spell upon a flower bed he was having trouble getting to bloom. I managed to talk him out of doing things in that order so I could retrieve Sarah by nightfall thinking this would keep her safe."

Arulan attempted to sum things up, "But he pushed her to the point of exhaustion and now you feel responsible?"

"No, I'm afraid it's far worse than that." Jareth pulled back the heavy curtains with his finger. Looking out he saw how grey and dreary the day had become, fitting for his mood. "When I returned to the castle for Sarah, Tiberon met me at the door in a robe. His staff had been dismissed for the evening and his appearance was disheveled." He paused again, hoping the elf would put the rest together. "The Representative told me Sarah was sleeping." Still no help. "I found her naked in his bed, in much the same condition she is now."

"You don't think that she would…I mean unless he…but even he couldn't be that…"

"I hope not, that's exactly what I think and yes he could!" Jareth shouted putting an end to her string of unfinished questions. "Of course there is always the possibility that she went with him willingly."

"Oh, I don't believe that for an instant."

"She's very attracted, physically, to our kind."

"How do you know?" He looked at her, his face saying it all, "Oh, you haven't."

"In the technical sense no, but suffice it to say that we've gotten rather adept at pleasing one another. There's no reason why she couldn't have found the same attraction with Tiberon, in fact his being Lytegian would only lead me to believe her attraction would be stronger."

'No,' Arulan thought. 'No because she loves you, she must.' "I'm rather at a loss for words at this supposition of yours Jareth. How can you think Sarah would do such a thing?"

"Shy of her admitting it I cannot. But even if she were to admit it, what am I to do? I have no claim to her. She is a free spirit, as easily roped as the wind. Her stay here is only a few weeks more, beyond that I have no control over her."

"Then you've got to tell her."

"Tell her what, that I love her, that my world is nothing without her in it and that all she is doing here will be forgotten within a week of her leaving, for my heart will crumble all the same as it did fifteen years ago?" His palms caught his falling head, "Why bother?"

Arulan thought a moment. Sarah was a beautiful girl, probably been told a hundred times that she was loved and given her past, probably had a hard time believing what she heard, "You must do more than tell her. You must show her."

"Are you daft?" he asked sincerely.

"Jareth, a woman is a creature more filled with doubt than even your sensitive soul can comprehend. As afraid as you might be that she doesn't return these feelings for you, she is doubly afraid that you don't have them to begin with."

"Her not returning my feelings means my death," the king tried to reason.

"Doesn't matter. It means her heart. A woman will give away many things before handing a man her heart to treat as a play thing, hence your…shall we say, adventures…up until now."

"You're suggesting I court her?"

"Court her without her knowing. Do things with her, plan things for her, give her no choice but to admit her feelings for you." A huge smile had plastered itself on Arulan's pale and perfect face.

"How can you be sure she has these feelings to admit to?"

"I too am a woman Jareth. I know, trust me." She stood and pulled him to his feet. "There's a fairy ring in the glen this coming full moon. You'll take the girl. I'll make all the arrangements, you just need to ask Sarah."

Arulan was off like a shot. "Is that all?" He grumbled.

Jareth wandered out of the sitting room and headed back towards the main hall. He would sit in the dining room and wait for Sarah to wake up. Just as he hit the top of the stairs, a determined dwarf with a face of rage came stomping up the marble steps toward him shouting, "Don't care what he's doin', I'm goin' to talk to him right damn now!"

"And by him, I assume you mean me," Jareth said coolly.

"Where's Sarah? You never came home with her last night. I've waited all day to hear word from you and you can bet I'm not goin' home without knowin' what ya done with my girl" His backside jutted out as he leaned forward in a pathetic effort to intimidate Jareth who only grabbed him by the ear and dragged him back into the sitting room.

"What are you thinking coming in here carrying on that way about the private matters of this castle?"

"I don't care. When it comes to my Sarah I got no pride."

"Your Sarah is asleep in her room, exhausted from having used magic again yesterday to set right the list of things Tiberon had wrong in his sector. Are you satisfied?"

"No," he said indignantly. "You brought her home to us the first night when she was weak, but last night you bring her here? Somethin' more to it Jareth, somethin' more than what your sayin'."

'Where did all this sudden perceptiveness come from?' he thought. Shutting the door and making certain it was locked, Jareth told him all he had told Arulan.

"So whattya gonna do 'bout it?"

"What am I going to do about it? Who says I've got anything to do about it?"

"You love her, I know you do. What's more, the Triumvirate made you responsible for her. You've got to keep him away from her."

"I've consulted with Arulan and she feels I should attempt to woo the mortal."

Hoggle's head hung, "She's in danger. The Supreme One only knows what Tiberon's capable of, and your leavin' it up to a test of who can woo who?"

"Refusing to allow her near him only makes her seek him out more. What other choice have I got?"

"Have you thought about tyin' her up?" Jareth smirked, "Never mind, it's obvious we don't mean that the same way. Do what you can, and I'll help you, if I can, but I swear if she gets hurt, I'll…"

"You won't have to. I'll have already done it myself." Hoggle extended a hand to Jareth which the king took and shook firmly. They had a deal. Something in the king felt an obligation to do something he had never asked of any parent or guardian before, "Hoggle," he called to the dwarf as his stout legs carried him toward the exit. "I'll only do this with your permission." He eyed the king suspiciously, "May I have your permission to court your…Sarah?" His intent clear as rain this time.

Hoggle swallowed hard hoping to dislodge the lump in his throat. "You may." Outside the door Hoggle leaned against the wall, "Sarah," he said, "What have you done to him?"

In the Southeast, Tiberon and Maeve were only just dragging themselves out of bed. Tiberon fixed them something to eat and they sat at the dining table discussing what their next steps would be. "When I finish with him Maeve, darling, he'll no longer be king. Why will you want him then?"

"You said it yourself last night. I want him because I refuse to see him want anyone but me. I was the best he'd ever had, the only woman he'd ever proposed marriage to and he was over me the minute I had my little tete a tete with Emanon. But this girl, this mortal, shatters his kingdom, runs off, returns fifteen years later and it's her he cannot live without. Unacceptable."

"Letting things get personal I see," Tiberon teased her lips with some fruit which she snapped off his fork, her teeth grating along the tines.

"Don't I always? So you've made it seem as though you've had his mortal, now what?"

"Now, I let him stew. I use the lovely powders you've given me to continue to enchant the girl. Each time she's with me she'll fall into a peaceful sleep, and when she awakes, she'll have no idea what we've done or not done for that matter. Each time she leaves she'll have a strong inclination to return, but no clue why that inclination is there. Eventually, as mortals do, she'll mistake those twisted emotions for love and Sarah Williams will be mine. The king will be devastated. That my darling is when you begin to visit the castle, reclaiming your rightful position at his side. With an insider at the castle, I'll know just when to bring out my secret weapon."

"Ooh, that sounds particularly dangerous," she purred leaning across the corner of the table to lay a hand on his thigh. "Tell me about it."

"I'll show you if you want to see."

"Maeve want, oh yes, Maeve want." Leave it to her. Few fey could match her ability to make even the most mundane thing into something titillating. Few words could fall from her lips without dripping sensuality.

Down the hall they walked arm in arm to a room Tiberon had failed to show Sarah when she was visiting. He opened the door slowly, "Good day your majesty. I hope you're not too put out, but I've brought you a visitor."

Maeve stood in wonder. He was the spitting image of Jareth right down to his boots only he wore all black, his hair black, his eyes like coal. "Charmed I'm sure," she said extending her hand, palm parallel to the ground.

"Such formality," he replied. The Shadow King took her hand and pulled the red head to him in a tight embrace. "Good to see you again Maeve." His lips fell upon her in a powerful kiss, for a moment she resisted, but just a moment. Then she gave into him as her arms rested on his back, her lips parting to accommodate his probing tongue. After a minute or so he let her free, grinning wickedly at the flush he had managed to spread over her cheeks. "I see you haven't forgotten me."

"How did you do this?" she asked Tiberon as she stalked around the Shadow King. "He's amazingly life-like." Her finger trolled over his shoulder, "I should like to borrow him for the night."

The men laughed heartily. "I didn't do this Maeve. The Shadow King is real. You see when Jareth went into the Labyrinth attempting to reclaim his magic from the girl, he lost track of his shadow. As luck would have it he's grown rather soft since then. A fey's spirit can be a restless thing and so the shadow lurked collecting his hostility as he allowed it to shed, gathering all that was evil that Jareth let sloth off. Until he was powerful enough to evolve into the being you see before you now. Jareth through and through but comprised of only the mean and evil bits, all the wonderful pieces. He wants the Labyrinth back too. So I've agreed to let him stay with me until the time is right. He's promised to help us get what we want."

Maeve was still affixed to the Shadow King, taken in by his majesty and stature. "So physically, he's just like the king?"

"In every way," the Shadow King's tongue slipped over his teeth.

"I see," she focused her attention to the crotch of his black tights and cursed the color for it's concealing properties.

"Not yet, love, but it can be arranged."

Tiberon bowed out gracefully, "I'll leave you two to become better acquainted."

Stumbling into the kitchen, Sarah hadn't even bothered to get dressed. She still wore her nightgown and robe, the one Arulan had dressed her in. Her hair had yet to be brushed and her face hung as if her chin weighed twenty pounds. "Miss," said one of the elves, "You look fearfully unwell, can I get something for you?"

"Just some toast," she said weakly. "I'm not very hungry, and I'm queasy."

"Yes mum," she said. Moments later she returned with the toast and a hot cup of tea.

Sarah sat in the dining room hovered over the pathetic meal. If she hadn't known better she would have sworn that she'd drunk far more than two glasses of wine last night. Head throbbing and upset stomach, the two worst features of a hangover. Having been alerted by his servant, Jareth joined her in the dining hall. "The cook tells me you're not feeling well." Sarah only shook her head confirming that he had been informed appropriately. "What's the matter?"

"Queasy."

"I had my healer take a look at you this morning. He said you were exhausted from performing magic Sarah. What all did Tiberon have you do last night?"

She shrugged. "Not much really. We went for a walk and he showed me the flower bed. I cast a spell and it made me very weak. So, he helped me to the castle and I lied down in the bed he had made for me, before he knew we'd be staying at Hoggle's. I fell asleep and had the strangest dream. I don't much remember it now. Then when Tiberon woke me for dinner I joined him. We ate. I had two lousy glasses of wine and don't remember anything, but waking up in my bed this morning. I'm assuming you brought me home."

"I did."

"I don't remember it Jareth. None of it. Just the spell, I had to use more than one element which I've never tried before, but I did it. The flowers, they were beautiful." She sipped her tea to wash down the few bites of dry toast she'd taken while they talked. "But it must have wiped me out because I don't remember much afterward."

'Probably, the way he wanted it,' Jareth thought. "So you think this is a hangover?"

"It must be. I don't feel like I did when we went back to Hoggle's the first night. When I woke up from that I was well rested and starving. To be quite honest I can't even stand the sight of this toast, but I've got to get something to settle my stomach," she paused, "otherwise…" Sarah fled the room in search of the downstairs water closet. Jareth followed her to the door. From the hall he could hear her vomiting.

"Sarah," he called, "Can I get you something?"

"Jareth go away. I feel awful and if I look anything like I feel I don't want to be seen."

The king remained by the door until he heard her torrents end. Then he swung the door open gently. Sarah was slumped on the floor. Even ill, he couldn't resist her. His arms folded around her weak body as he lifted her off the cold floor. Up the stairs and down the hall they went to her room, Sarah grumbling the entire way, short incoherent words. Already peeled back, the duvet was ready to welcome her. Jareth set her on the mattress, removing her robe as he did so and covered her with the thick warm blanket. "What's wrong with me?" she whispered.

"Just rest." She gave him no argument. He looked at her for a long moment, concern and worry in his brow.

Arulan was in the doorway when he turned to leave, the same elf having alerted her of Sarah's condition as well. "What happened?"

"She's hung over."

"Hung over?"

"Apparently she had some wine with dinner last night and that in combination with the magic has made her ill."

"How much wine?"

"What's it matter?"

"How much wine?" she asked again.

Jareth pulled the door shut behind them. "Two glasses."

"That's not enough to make her this sick. Not even put together with magic. Look at what you can toss down in a day."

His eyebrow arched at her insinuation, "I've had a few centuries to practice."

"Mortals sometimes get ill when they're…when they become…pregnant. It's called morning sickness."

If ever the king looked defeated. Slowly he said, "If, and I mean if, she's pregnant, it's not by more than a day. Bit early for this morning sickness isn't it?"

"Well it's about as good as your hangover theory."

"Get the healer back here. He'll know if she's pregnant."

"Aye your grace."

Night crawled through the open window of Sarah's chamber by the time the healer returned. Jareth was propped up in a chair waiting on him. "I'm against this Jareth. It's none of your business if she's with child, unless it's yours?"

"It isn't and if she is with child, she needs to return Aboveground immediately before the baby has a chance to get used to our immortal atmosphere; otherwise, we'd have to send her home without the child. Now do as I have asked you to do."

The hands of the healer covered Sarah's stomach just above her womb. His touch caused her to wake. She gasped at the sight of him, for she had never laid eyes on him before. Gently, the healer explained who he was, "I'm just here to check your tummy. The king tells me that you're not feeling well."

"It's just a hangover," she explained.

"I see, well let me decide that, all right?"

Jareth appeared at her bedside, "Let the doctor do what he needs to do Sarah."

"I'm just going to press on your tummy, you'll feel some warmth, that's just magic. I'm taking a look inside your stomach." He continued with his description of his procedures. It was a comfort for Sarah who felt odd having this man examine her, but obviously it wasn't the first time. "Good, very good. Well it would appear as though you have nothing more than an upset stomach. Something you ingested isn't agreeing with you at all. I'm going to make you up something to drink that will fix that by morning."

The healer headed for Jareth's bath to work his magic. The king followed him. "So she's not…"

"Pregnant? Heavens no. It's as I told her out there. Something she's ingested has upset her stomach. By tomorrow she'll be up and about and eating more for breakfast than you," the healer laughed. Jareth sighed with relief. "Take her this and make her finish it. No sooner than it hits her stomach it will coat the lining and her queasiness should end. She'll have no more vomiting and she should be good as new." He emerged from the bath, the king in tow. "Well milady, I really do wish we would meet under better circumstances, but nevertheless, it has been a pleasure to serve you. The king has your medication. I wish you well."

"Thank you," Sarah smiled.

"Ah, here," Jareth stumbled as he handed her the drink.

"I really don't feel like taking a chance on throwing up again."

"The doctor said this will stop that." She looked at him hesitantly, her eyes asking, 'Are you sure?' "I'm sure," he said.

"Mmmm. This tastes like a strawberry milkshake. You want some?" she asked thrusting the glass under his nose.

"No, no, the doctor said you needed it all." She polished off the drink with no further argument. "Back to bed with you now." Jareth took the empty glass, placed it on the nightstand and tucked her in.

"You take such good care of me," she smiled up at him.

"I try to," he told her. "Get some sleep. You'll need plenty of rest if you're to exercise those jaws at the breakfast table tomorrow."

"Why's that?"

"Your appetite should return in full force by morning."

"Good. I know there's nothing left in there," Sarah quipped as she patted her belly. Her look quickly changed to embarrassment. "I'm sorry you had to see me like that?"

"You were ill."

"I know, but I thought I was hung over. I felt like a fool what with me acting like a drunken teenager slung over the toilet, bargaining with God that I would do glorious things in his name if he would only slow the earth's rotation." Jareth smiled. "I just don't understand why I don't remember so much if it wasn't the alcohol making me sick."

"Exhaustion can do tricky things. Best not worry about it now," he blew out the candles on her bedside table.

"Do you have to go?" she asked.

"You need to rest and I have things to do," he lied. "But I was wondering," his foolish mouth searched for words, "would you mind joining me," putting the invitation off for one more day, "in my office after breakfast tomorrow? Just to let me know you're alright."

"You could just come up to check on me."

"I'd rather you come to the office, we could discuss the plans for next week's visits."

Sarah had forgotten there were more sectors waiting for her to heal. "That's right. Have it your way, the office it is." A huge yawn could be heard in the shadow.

"Good night Sarah." Before she could respond she had fallen asleep.

Jareth hadn't courted a woman since Maeve and she was not apt to swoon at the things a normal woman was apt to swoon at. In fact, if anything, Jareth might have had to admit that she did more of the courting than him. She certainly sped up the process faster than he would have. Maeve was a very sexual creature, ritual courtship was not her style, patience not her strong suit. He consulted with Arulan, who gently reminded him of the basics. Dressing nicely, which he always did. Speaking kindly, which he sometimes needed to be reminded to do. And of course, pursuing slowly and not being too overbearing, which drove him insane. So he rose, bathed and donned his grey tights, a grey shirt with cravat, his black gloves and black leather vest. Slid his long legs into his black leather boots and donned his favorite frock coat, the one with the amethyst highlights. To help incorporate the jacket more he streaked a few of his blonde locks a deep purple.

In his office he sat practicing. How was best to ask the mortal to accompany him? Sarah, I would like you to go with me to a fairy ring this full moon. No that was a command. Sarah, would you like to go with me to a fairy ring? No, too much room for her to decide against joining him. Sarah, it would please me very much were you to accompany me this full moon to a fairy ring in the glen. May I count on your company? Now that was charming. Who could say no to that?

Even for all of his rehearsal, when her small knuckles rapped against the thick door, his tongue turned to rubber. "In, I mean come in."

"Am I disturbing you?"

"Not at all," Jareth claimed fumbling with his coat and opening a book that had been closed. "Did you eat?"

"Oh yes, four pancakes and three pieces of sausage. Food never tasted so good." Her pink lips smiled making her face seem even brighter than the mango colored dress she was wearing.

"I'm glad."

"You won't be when I weigh four hundred pounds and you're trying to hoof me up those stairs." Her reply left him flabbergasted. What was that supposed to mean? She wanted to stay long enough for that to happen? She thought he would often find a need to drag her up the stairs? Picking up on his confusion, Sarah went on to say, "Oh I forgot, you all take everything so literally here. I just meant that I shouldn't keep eating like that because it could have a detrimental effect on my health."

"I see."

An uncomfortable silence joined them in the room. "So," Sarah spoke first, "you were going to tell me about my next appointment."

"I was? I mean I was. I was," Jareth stood. Extending an arm, he invited her to join him in the sitting area. "This has been a particularly difficult week for you. I'm not entirely insensitive to that. I've rearranged the schedule a bit. Talked to Gandor, who is already rather smitten by you and would likely give you anything you wanted." Sarah blushed. The color in her cheeks made something warm spread across the Goblin King's chest. "He's agreed to put off your visit until next week."

"Great. So I get a week off?"

"Not exactly, we should work with your magic some so that you're not so prone to these bouts of exhaustion. But I was wondering, there's this thing." He squinted his eyes, mortified that his eloquent words had been mutilated by his own lips. "I apologize. At the full moon a bunch of fairies, uh," sure that sounded better. Sarah's head was tilted on her shoulder her green eyes drawn up in the corner, thick black lashes pulling her lids over and back as she played tag with his gaze. "What I'm trying to say is, it would please me very much were you to accompany this full moon to a fairy ring in the glen. May I count on your company?"

Her head nodded quickly a few times before she confirmed, "Yes, that would be lovely. I've read about fairy rings in some of your books. I was hoping I'd get to see one while I was here."

"Reading my books are you?"

"They're quite interesting, plenty of information. I hoped to have time to read them all, but I'm afraid I didn't count on there being so many."

"Yes well it seems that fairy's tales are told ad nauseam, I'm afraid."

"And still there are some tales not yet told, how do you suppose that is?" her eyes sparkled with interest.

"Is there a particular tale you're searching for?" he asked, clueless that it was his story which had intrigued her.

Deverell entered the office, today's correspondence in his hand. "Your majesty, milady, I beg your pardons. I was just about to set to answering the day's mail."

"No need to apologize Deverell, you have your business to attend to and I have books which I must read. If you men will excuse me," Sarah replied.

Jareth stood in respect when she moved to leave. "Just a minute milady," Deverell halted her exit. "You've received a letter."

Before Sarah could get her hands on the envelope Jareth snatched from his assistant's hand, "From whom?"

"I think that's my personal business," she reminded him. Begrudgingly he handed her the envelope. "It's from Tiberon." The king's blood boiled. Sarah's delicate hands removed the parchment from it's pouch and unfolded the letter, lilac fragrance filled the room and Jareth noticed the small flowers embedded in the back of the parchment. "It seems I'm invited to dinner at his castle tomorrow."

"You're not going."

"I actually haven't decided yet."

"That wasn't a question. I'm telling you, you're not going."

"I didn't hear you telling me I couldn't go when you wanted to take me to the fairy ring."

"That's different. You'll be with me." Even Jareth realized how stupid that sounded.

Deverell attempted to politely excuse himself, "No, you don't need to leave. Jareth I'm going to make this simple for you. If you want me to go with you at the full moon, you'll let me make my own decision about Tiberon's tomorrow."

"But after what he did to you!"

"What? He didn't know that using magic would wear me out that much. It was an accident." In honesty, she didn't feel entirely comfortable going, although she couldn't put her finger on why, but Jareth's insistence that she stay, made her want to go more, more than the finely scripted invitation and scented parchment already made her want to go. "He obviously called you as soon as I got sick; otherwise, I wouldn't have gotten home."

"Right, you wouldn't have. I'm sorry I overreacted. Of course you can make your own decision. Please accept my regrets."

"Apology accepted. Now if you'll excuse me."

Jareth hated that Sarah didn't recall most of the events of the prior evening. He wanted to tell her how he found her, where he found her, but he didn't want to let on that he suspected anything had transpired between them. The king leveled his eyes at Deverell. "I'm most sorry your grace. I had no idea the post was from Tiberon nor that the lady was not to receive posts from him your grace."

"Do you need me for anything?"

"No your grace."

"Then excuse me, but I must seek the counsel of my servant."

When Arulan heard what had happened, she agreed that Jareth had done the right thing in letting Sarah make her own decision. Additionally, she reminded him that he could always watch through one of his crystals. "It's not a bad idea, but Arulan, I've seen things in my crystals before that I didn't much care for, in hindsight."

"'Tis a chance you'll have to take. You've got to keep an eye on her, especially if you think Tiberon's up to something."

"Maybe I'll get lucky and she'll decide not to go."

"Sure, maybe," the elf patted his chest with her hand reassuringly.

Lying on her stomach in her bed, her feet up and swinging in the air behind her. The invitation read, 'formal dress suggested'. It sounded intriguing. She was glad she had decided to go. All around her on the bed were open books, things she started to read and never finished, continually distracted by the wafting scent of lilacs when the breeze ruffled her drapes.

Arulan arrived with her ball gown early in the afternoon. "I've come to help you get ready miss, that is if you still feel like you want to go."

"Of course I still want to go," she said holding the dress against herself. She loved the idea of dressing up and having her hair done. It wasn't the butterflies she got when she was busy dressing for Jareth's ball, but it was exciting.

By the time Arulan had finished with her, Sarah's hair was elegantly braided to reveal two long gemmed earnings that matched the necklace she had chosen. The elf tried to tell her his majesty would be unhappy she had not chosen to wear the necklace she had been given, but she did not heed the warning. Her dress was cut low, laced up the front, full sleeves which set midway down her upper arm. The waist was cinched in tightly and the skirt was full. Tiberon had sent the gown with a card saying, 'if she would agree to formal dress he thought she would look lovely in it. She did. Polished head to toe, she was every bit the model of perfection she had been the night Jareth created her first ball for her.

As she had promised, Jareth would meet her at a quarter of five so that he could transport to the castle. She waited for him in the main entrance where they had agreed to meet. At first his eyes fell gently upon her, appreciating what they saw, but when he drew nearer and realized his mother's choker was not around her neck he became more infuriated. With his left hand, he grasped her shoulder. Riding crop in his right hand, he drew the cold leather loop under her chin. "You're not wearing the medallion. I think my instructions regarding the medallion were clear."

"It didn't match my earrings," she said flatly.

Closing in on her, now irritated by her smugness, his voice lowered, his tone more commanding, "You will not endanger yourself with this man tonight Sarah. I won't allow it." Sarah's mouth hung open, shocked by the determination and control in his eyes, a sense of domination she had never felt from him before. "If at any time, you're treated inappropriately, placed in harm's way, or find yourself feeling strangely ill, I want you to wish me to your side and I'll bring you home." He shook her, slightly, but pointedly, "Do you understand me?"

Her breath hitched in her throat at his display of aggression and while she hated to admit to being distracted, it aroused her terribly. "Yes," she finally managed.

"I'll be there to pick you up at midnight unless I hear from you sooner."

"Right, otherwise I turn into a pumpkin," she chided.

"This is not a joke. Go if you want to go. Leave your medallion here if it clashes with your earrings, but make no mistake about it, you are still mine, with or without that charm. There's not a fool in this realm who doesn't know that you belong to me."

Sarah liked the way that sounded, 'Make no mistake about it...you belong to me.' Suddenly she wanted to stay. Her emotions were all tangled up, which made her mouth blurt out, "We'll be late." Late for what? Was something going on somewhere? What about what was going on here? The king took her forcefully by the arm and the tingling warmth spread through her. Too late to change her mind now. Damn her stubborn head and hasty tongue.

Before the effects of transporting could wear off, Jareth was gone. Sarah stood alone on the steps to Tiberon's castle, staring blankly at the door, forgetting why she was supposed to be here in the first place. When the door swung open to reveal the Representative in his most formal attire, bejeweled waist coat and matching pants, a white frilly shirt, white leggings that met ankle high boots, just a hint of silver in the otherwise black attire, it was a not so subtle reminder. "I see you wore the dress I sent."

Still in a fog from the transport and from the king's fleeting words, Sarah shook her head, "Uh huh."

"Won't you come in?" She walked passed him, still not particularly concerned with being there in the first place. Tiberon took her arm and led her to the dining room. The leaves had been removed from the long formal dining table, leaving behind an intimate square and exposing a larger portion of the room itself. Soft music came from someplace, but Sarah didn't bother trying to figure out where. "Milady, might I have the first dance?" Without waiting for an answer Tiberon slid one hand around her cinched waist and clasped her palm in the other. His box step was dizzying as he held her at arms length. When the music ended they took their places at the table. Two glasses of red wine were already there accompanying the place settings.

'Odd,' Sarah thought, she hadn't noticed them on the table when she came in, but then again, she hadn't noticed much with Jareth's threat echoing in her head.

"To…friendship," Tiberon rose his glass for a toast. Sarah clinked his glass and sipped the wine, not wishing for a repeat performance of her last meal with the fey, she had already decided to be particularly careful how much she allowed herself to drink. "The bouquet is not to your liking?"

"No, no, I like it just fine. Only last time I drank, I got very ill. I'd rather not overdo it tonight." The wine warmed her from within. Sarah felt the drops rolling down her throat and plopping into the pit of her stomach. It seemed to do more than create a physical warmth, it seemed to warm her spirit and her heart. All those suspicions and hesitations burning up inside it's fire. Jareth had been on her mind, but she didn't remember why and the violet of Tiberon's eyes suddenly seemed alive.

"Of course not."

"If it's all the same, I'd like to remember this visit," Sarah's hand lay on his forearm causing the fey to raise an eyebrow at her.

"Well milady if it's a night to remember you've come looking for, that can be arranged." Perhaps this mortal would be more fun than he had originally thought.

In the center of the Labyrinth the king sat in the window of one of the towers. It was facing west where he could see the sun set. Spinning a crystal in his palm he focused on his mortal. Gloved fingers clenched around the orb when he saw Sarah's hand upon Tiberon's forearm, the glasses of wine between them which stained their lips to match the color of her cheeks. "Do not throw the crystal," he reminded himself. He continued to watch them, the hours ticking by. First they were served and though their plates contained the same foods in veritably equal portions, they insisted on sampling each others plates. Tiberon offering his food to Sarah and her responding in kind. True to her promise, Sarah kept light on the drink. While she remained awake, she was sipping so that slowly the effects of Tiberon's magic worked on her more obviously as her warm feelings for him began to manifest in lingering touches and deep meaningful stares. When once again Tiberon took her to the dance floor, he held her closer, moved her around slower. Jareth watched as the Representative drew in her extended arm and held it against his chest, bending his head to place quick kisses over her knuckles.

As he watched them dance on, he sung into the night, "I was dreaming of the past and my heart was beating fast. I began to lose control. I began to lose control. I was feeling insecure. You might not love me anymore. I was shivering inside. I was shivering inside. I didn't mean to hurt you. I'm sorry that I made you cry. Oh no, I didn't mean to hurt you. I'm just a jealous guy." Tiberon's lips covered Sarah's. The horror of watching her return his kiss forced Jareth to turn his wet eyes into the endless night, "I was trying to catch your eyes. Thought that you were trying to hide. I was swallowing my pain. I was swallowing my pain. I didn't mean to hurt you. I'm sorry if I made you cry. Oh no, I didn't want to hurt you. I'm just a jealous guy. Watch out, I'm just a jealous guy. I'm just a jealous guy." Jareth blew the crystal into the wind. Let someone else watch this, he couldn't. Not anymore.

In between dances, Sarah returned to the table for a drink. Her throat would grow so dry even when she was not speaking. Quickly the glass she nursed all night began to empty. Her delicate fingers wrapped around the long neck of the wine bottle. "More for you?" she asked Tiberon.

"No thank you," he told her.

"Suit yourself," she said feeling tipsy off just one drink. The wine seemed to flow from it's container in slow motion each ripple moving independently. Sarah's head began to pound. She tried to set the bottle down but it refused to leave her hand. Her head filled with images of Maeve, busily working a mortar and pestle grinding up a silver powder, dumping it into the bottle, replacing the cork and shaking it frantically. She then poured two glasses, one from the bottle Sarah now held, one from another bottle which had not been tampered with. The fey then set them on the table, the perfect untouched table. 'Must have been while we were dancing,' Sarah's weakening mind thought. The bottle crashed to the ground splintering into thousands of irreparable shards.

"Sarah," Tiberon called rushing to her side.

"She tried to poison me."

"What?" he was unaware the mortal had the power of sight.

"Maeve, she tried to poison me. In the wine," she choked. "There's something in the wine." The room began to spin. 'Damn!' something deep inside her shouted. 'Whatever you do,' she told herself, 'you've got to stay awake.'

"Darling, you should lie down. You don't look well. What's say I take you upstairs and help you to bed?"

"No!" she shouted. "I mustn't go to sleep."

"I really think it would be best Sarah. Don't you trust me? Don't you think I have your best interests at heart, love?"

When Jareth called her love it was so warm and sincere, but when Tiberon used the phrase, it came out mechanically, almost obligatory. And yet, she did trust him. "No Christian," her head was jumbled by this time and she scrunched her eyes as she tried to sync up her vision with her tongue, "I do not want to go to bed and you can't make me."

"Well I can," Maeve emerged through the servant's entrance. She chanted a few words Sarah didn't recognize, lowered her blood red lips to her palm and began to blow a steady stream of granulated crystals in the mortal's direction. It looked like sugar in the air. It moved as slow as the wine had, slower.

From somewhere behind the mortal, the wind picked up. Her subconscious using it's magic to defend her body in it's weakened state. The crystals blew back upon Maeve so quickly she hadn't the time to respond, rather only time to brace herself with the table's edge before her own trick caused her to heap in a pile on the floor. Tiberon watched, shocked by what he had seen. Perhaps he had taken his uncle too lightly when the Sage tried to warn him what this mortal was capable of. Sarah swayed, weakened further by her use of magic.

"I wish you'd let me take you upstairs to bed," Tiberon told her as he steadied Sarah in his arms. "This has all been far too much for you to bear."

"Oh, let's talk about wishes," Sarah swung her arms in huge circles breaking free of the Representative's grasp. Her shoes tapped off the dance floor. "I had a wish once. I used it to make somebody go away. Does that scare you Tiberon? Did I mention he was only a poor defenseless child? He was. And you know it took me fifteen years to wish again. Once I did, everything I wished for, I got. My powers grew and I got stronger and stronger without even realizing it. One day I had the chance to do it again, wish someone away, and despite how awful it felt the first time, regardless of how empty it made my heart I did it, only this time it was a grown man, a king. And I," she smashed her hands against her chest, "I made him disappear. You had no idea what I was capable of such things, did you?" Her tirade paused for a moment. Tiberon watched, part of him feeling dreadful that she reacted to the herbs this poorly, but only a small part. Sarah beckoned him closer, "Do you know what I'm wishing for right now, Tibby?" He shook his head from side to side, her fingers dancing over the sides of his face. "I'm not wishing for anyone to go away. Nope, no I'm not." His eyes rose, a sudden interest peaked by the mortal's desire. "In fact, I wish Jareth were here right now."

Instantly he appeared in the room. Tiberon shoved Sarah away. The king caught her in his arms. "Take me home," she shouted, snapping her fingers.

The sight of Maeve huddled on the floor did not escape the king. "I don't know what you've done tonight Tiberon and I know you'll not admit it to me, but make no mistake, I will find out and when I do, you'll pay, if not with your life than by means which will make you wish you had." As he had come to do so frequently in the little time she'd been in the Underground, Jareth swept Sarah into his arms and transported them home.

No sooner had he set her on the bed, Jareth rung for Arulan. "What's happened?" she asked when she saw Sarah lying in bed in the gown, she had dressed her in earlier that afternoon.

"I haven't a clue. She must have wished for me. I was in the office making today's journal entry and the next thing I know I'm in Tiberon's dining room, she's slurring her words barely able to stand, Maeve's on the ground in a heap and the Representative is looking as though he'll be needing to freshen his tights rather soon."

"Drunk?"

"It seems that way, but I only watched her take one drink while they were together."

"Are you sure that's all?" Arulan's fingers worked fast at Sarah's laces trying to get her free of the dress and corset so she'd have more air.

"It's all I saw," he turned his head and said more softly, "while I was watching."

"While you were watching? When did you stop watching?"

Viciously he spat at her as he undid Sarah's shoes, "When they began kissing."

"It's just not like our Sarah."

"I'm afraid you haven't the foggiest what our Sarah is really like." The pronoun came from his mouth as though it had left a bad taste along the way.

"Jareth!" More than shock came in Arulan's voice, it was coupled with reprimand and Jareth heard it hidden their just beneath her surprise, accented on the second syllable of his name. "I'm calling for your healer, we'll let him decide."

Though the king was getting pretty sick of women constantly telling him what they were going to do, he allowed Arulan to call for the healer, who in turn came immediately when he was told, potentially, a drugging had been involved. When he arrived, the Goblin King explained the conditions under which he had found the girl, mentioning too, that Maeve was in the state she was in.

"Uh, huh. Yes, yes, that's normal," the healer went on with a series of succinct statements that told everyone else in the room positively nothing. "Who was it that suspected this drugging?" Jareth grabbed his temples with one hand, preparing for the worst and waved a finger at Arulan. "Oh, then perhaps I should steal you away to become my assistant for you are a perceptive thing."

"What?" There was relief in the king, but the anger overrode it.

"Oh yes, she's been drugged for sure. Something not terribly powerful, but it is hallucinogenic. Did the girl seem to be believing things she wouldn't normally otherwise?"

"I'll say," Arulan acknowledged.

"She's been very trusting and friendly with Tiberon," Jareth confirmed.

"That'll do. I'm sure she used magic within the last six hours, that, combined with the drug, has knocked her cold again. I'll mix her up something, but right now, rest is the best thing for her. Be wary that she's protected for at least another twelve hours until the full effects of the medication wear off as she'll be extremely susceptible to suggestion."

Arulan and Jareth looked at each other, both thinking the same thing. Now would be the time to plant a seed in Sarah's head, a tiny idea about falling in love with the king, which could grow into something more full and promising. Without words, both let the idea fade. Neither wished to sink themselves to the level of the Representative, "Send for Hoggle. I'll have him keep watch over her until the time passes. He's the only one I trust not to manipulate her in any way."

"Well, I'd best go and examine Maeve if you say that she's as bad as all that," the healer left promptly.

"Tiberon, I'm not going away. Jareth told me about Maeve's accident and I need to take a look at her."

"She's fine thank you, just took a nasty fall." Tiberon's voice wavered as he tried to convince the healer.

"Tiberon, when Maeve came to me asking to learn the art of apothecary, I conceded. I never gave her my permission or the idea to go about drugging anyone so that you could control them. Let me pass, so I can treat the woman or, by the Underground, I'll go straight to the Triumvirate and have you both banished."

Upon Jareth's advice, the healer went straight to the dining room where the Representative sunk to his knees and hunched over the woman's body frantically trying to wake her. The healer shoved him aside. "How foolish the fey can be at times. Always thinking they're the superior ones, never thinking they can be hurt or destroyed. Immortality makes you all mad. Bring me some water and a bowl, a wooden bowl." When Tiberon returned with the water in a wooden bowl, the healer added to it a potent herbal mixture that smelled like a combination of bog water and mint. By the palmful he spooned the mixture over Maeve's head until her eyes began to flutter. "You play dangerous games milady, and there are times when those we seek to destroy make us take a long look at ourselves. A taste of your own medicine should teach you a good lesson." He gathered his things, "Send her to bed, she'll live."

When he was gone, the Representative grabbed Maeve hard by the shoulders. "You've ruined everything!"

"No really, I'm fine, thank you," she spat back at him shaking off his hands. You had no more clue than I did she was that powerful. "You and your fancy ideas. Jareth was already convinced you'd bedded his mortal. You're the one who got greedy, wanted just one more night with her. You didn't really think she'd want a vile thing such as yourself did you?"

The back of his hand cracked on her cheek. Drops of blood gathered slowly in the corner of her mouth. Maeve licked them a way. "You'll never do it alone," she warned. "You and a hundred men won't take Jareth, no one before you has succeed and you will most likely die trying." He swung at her again, but she caught his hand, pulling a small dagger from her belt, she held it to his throat. "Or you could die before you get the chance to try." When his posture relaxed, she released his hand and left, what little dignity she still had in tact.

"I don't need you Maeve." His hand rubbed over his Adam's apple. "I don't need you or Sarah. I have the Shadow King, better than a hundred men. I'll make the king defeat himself." Tiberon folded his right hand to his chest, the other lifting his wine glass from the table as he swung around to music no one else heard.

For the next couple of days the king ordered strict bed rest for the girl. She needed to be fully recovered before they began their work in the western sectors. By the morning of the full moon she grew frustrated with being confined to her room. "Arulan," she asked at breakfast, "will the king and I still be attending the fairy ring this evening?"

"I believe so," she said hopefully. "Would you like me to send him by so you two can discuss the arrangements?"

She sulked. "I don't think he wants to speak to me."

"What makes you say a thing like that milady?"

"It's been two days and he's barely spoken five words to me. He's upset that I accepted Tiberon's invitation. Angry with me for showing his precious Maeve's true colors."

"That settles it," Arulan marched out of the room to gather the king. She returned moments later with Jareth in tow. "You two are going to sit here and talk to one another until you can manage to be civilized. I'm exhausted from smoothing things over between the two of you. Get along or kill one another, either way, it's fine with me!" When she left she locked the door.

"Do you believe this? My servant!" Jareth tried the door, which was indeed locked. "Unbelievable." He turned to Sarah who had pushed her breakfast tray aside and was sitting up in her bed, the duvet pulled tight around her. "Have you any idea what this is about?"

"I wanted to know if we were still going to the fairy ring tonight."

"I've been dragged from my study, tossed in here, imprisoned and all because you want to know if we're still going to the ring?"

"Well you haven't spoken five words to me in the last two days."

He softened at her half confession, "Ah, so that's what this is about. These last two days you were supposed to be resting. I've left you to rest is all." Jareth sat beside her on the bed, taking her hand in his. "Is there anything else on that imaginative mind of yours?"

"You're mad at me."

"Mad at you?"

"Angry with me. Don't mince words with me right now. You're upset because I accepted Tiberon's invitation and showed you the kind of woman your lover really is."

"Maeve," the king slapped a palm off his forehead. "We've come back to Maeve."

"Yes we've come back to Maeve." Sarah sat up straighter in the bed, not caring if the covers fell away and exposed her in her night clothes. "It always comes back to Maeve. That woman hates me, but you've been so busy worrying Tiberon would put my virtue to the test, you never bothered to concern yourself with the fact that she was capable of drugging me. What if I had died?"

Words like stone hit his heart. What if she had died? He thought he too would have to die by his own hand, unable to accept that he had set his own love up for the kill. "First of all, Maeve is not my lover, we were lovers once, a long time ago, long before you and I," he was going to stop there, but quickly added, "met," so as not to seem too presumptuous. "I am angry that against my better judgment you accepted Tiberon's invitation. I warned you repeatedly about him and you chose to ignore me. I'm deeply sorry that Maeve has done these terrible things to you and when next we meet with the Triumvirate I will recommend that she be punished, but let me remind you, had you given my plea any consideration you would not have been at the castle and Maeve would not have been able to hurt you."

"Do you still love her?"

"Did I not say our relationship was in my past?"

"Your relationship, but your heart carried on through the past, didn't it? You may not be her lover now, but do you still love her?"

'My heart,' he thought, 'remains in a time when a whimsical young girl once wore a silver-white gown, my mother's combs in her hair and danced with me as I sung to her my promises of eternal devotion.' Jareth cleared the lump settling in his throat. "I don't think I ever loved her to begin with. I wanted rid of the throne, wanted rid of my responsibilities to the Underground, Maeve was a woman I could tolerate. If I could get her to agree to be my wife, we could have a child and I could be free."

"Why didn't she agree?" Sarah asked.

The Goblin King closed his eyes and sighed a deep heavy sigh. Sarah noticed the dark markings around his eyes tinged in gold. With his lids lowered it looked beautiful, like a permanent sunrise. "It would appear as if Maeve grew interested in someone else shortly after I asked her to become my bride. You are living proof that I will tolerate just about anything from a woman, but infidelity is no way to begin a marriage."

Sarah's heart sunk in her chest. Her insisting upon seeing Tiberon, was it making Jareth relive Maeve's betrayal? But she hadn't made him any promises. What right did he have to expect her fidelity? "I'm sorry she did that to you. I know how much it can hurt when someone you think you can tolerate," his words not hers, "enough to marry casts you aside for some meaningless fling."

"Do you now?"

"God I swore I'd never tell you this."

"You don't need to tell me anything you don't want to tell me."

His blue eyes pleaded with hers despite his words. Unable to resist, Sarah's lips became flood gates burst open by a wave of truth that had long struggled to be set free. "I lived with Christian for a couple of years. We talked about getting married, but it was always never the right time. We waited to get our careers established. We waited to save up money, he'd spend it, we'd wait to save it up again. Karen's overbearing step-parent comment of the week changed from, 'I'd like it if you had dates. You should have dates at your age,' to, 'I only hope you make it official before your poor father has to wheel himself down the aisle by your side.'" Jareth smirked. In a very retrospective way it was funny. "I woke up one day and realized I was spending my time trying to marry a man who didn't know the first thing about me. I felt like such an idiot, such a child, thinking that if I loved him enough, he would have to love me in return, believing that as long as he was treating me like he wanted me, it must be true." Tears dammed up in her eyes. A few escaping up and over the flimsy wall of lashes. "Then these visions started. Christian had borrowed money from his grandmother. She's a lovely woman, with very little income and she manages to save what she can so that she can leave the money for her grandkids, but Christian was her youngest grandchild and thereby became her favorite. He took a couple of thousand dollars from the poor thing and went out to buy some expensive clothes and a new watch. I was holding the watch one night, soon before I came back here, and I saw him. He met a jewelry clerk who was less than shy about her interest in him and they," there was no dignified way to admit this, "they had sex in his car. It pissed me off." Her cheeks grew red because of her use of the vernacular. "It made me furious that he would cheat on me, but what hurt me more was that as she walked away, having gotten what she'd wanted from him, he wanted more. He wanted to know when he could call her again. He'd had what was supposed to be a committed relationship and went looking for another one rather than saving the one he had. The girl refused him, telling him her intentions were more short term. Two years of my life, gone over a fling."

"It would seem our lives parallel more than we know," Jareth said pulling her by the wrist into his arms where her face hid beneath his fronds of golden hair and she allowed her tears to fall. When her sniffles grew to sobs and sobs had given way to sniffles once more, Jareth held her at arms length and wiped away her tears. "This is all Tiberon's fault."

"No it isn't," she said somewhat angrily. "It's Maeve's fault."

"Sarah I don't mean to argue with you, but the drug you were given was a hallucinogen. It's altered your interpretation of the situation. Maeve was wrong for what she did, but think about it, she wouldn't have even been there unless Tiberon had somehow arranged it, the same way he arranged to have her attend our lunch. Neither of them is any more trustworthy than the next."

"So you forbid me to see him again?"

"No, I only ask that before you see him again you consider what your heart's true desire is." She stared at him as though time had frozen. Who was this Goblin King? "As for our engagement later this evening, I will be back just before dusk to take you to the ring, that is if you're still interested in attending one of those while you're here."

"Indeed I am your majesty," she smiled. "I'll be ready when you come to call on me." Before he left he kissed the back of her hand, his mismatched eyes never leaving hers. Jareth walked to the locked doors and cast them open with a simplistic wave of his hand. "But those were locked," Sarah gasped.

Smugly he reminded her, "There's not been a lock yet that has stood to hold me Sarah."

Long before dusk actually came, while the skies were still blue and filled with clouds, Sarah was dressed. She sat before her dressing table combing through her long, thick hair. She was glad to be getting out of the castle, excited to be participating in something foreign to her. The dress she chose was pale green with thin straps and lace trim along the edge of the skirt. She had white sandals to wear along with it. Her hair was tied up in a matching green ribbon. Around her neck, the medallion from the king which hung from a white satin collar which embraced her throat.

Arulan came in the room to help her get ready only to find the mortal already checking her appearance in the mirror. "Well I see I'm no longer needed."

"Oh, Arulan, I'm sorry. It's just that I'm so excited to be getting out after all this time in bed I feel like I could fly there myself."

"Well, you'd be the prettiest bird in the trees." Her hands held Sarah by the shoulders, "Let me have a look at you then. You're put together like a prize, you are. Here now, I've brought something for you." Arulan handed her a tiny box. It was pink with a white ribbon. "Go on, open it."

"You shouldn't have," she protested as she undid the bow. From within the box Sarah pulled a tiny crystal bottle.

"It's perfume," Arulan told her as the girl eyed the yellow liquid inside. "Cook made it fresh this morning. Honey, vanilla and jasmine, but it's pure so just a dab on you throat, your wrist and the back of your knees; otherwise, you'll wind up smelling as sweet as the bog does sour."

Sarah removed the stopper and applied the liquid as the elf had instructed. It was a sweet and airy scent. "Thank you," she said hugging Arulan. She noticed the elf was still in her house clothes, "Aren't you coming to the ring?"

"Heavens no. I've been to more of those things than you could imagine."

"What are they like? I've read the books, but what are they really like?"

Arulan took her hands and they sat facing each other on the bed. "There's song and story-telling. A huge bonfire and all kinds of cakes and goodies. They'll be no less than a dozen species there, things you've never seen before. Dancing unlike what we do here at the castle, it's more ethnic, more ethereal. They can be very romantic affairs, enticing you to believe the universe is at your command. But then again, the libations flow like water there and that could produce the effect." She cast her eyes away from Sarah's, "You're going to have such a lovely time."

Guilt replaced her joy, "You don't mind if I go with Jareth?"

"Mind? Goodness no, I'm glad your going." If she stayed in the Underground a hundred years she'd never understand their relationship. A knock at the door sent the ladies to their feet. "Just a minute," Arulan called. "Mustn't let him think we've been waiting for him," she said softly as she winked at Sarah. Neurotically she straightened the girl's dress and the ribbon in her hair. "Perfect," she announced before finally going to answer the door.

Jareth looked at her amazed. Everyday something new and beautiful came rushing to her surface. "I hope you don't mind, but I'm a bit early."

"I hadn't noticed," Sarah lied. She'd been rather aware he had come early, his muscular legs covered in beige tights, leather to either end. For his feet, brown leather boots, his chest clad in a brown leather vest. His shirt had long ruffled sleeves and was just a shade lighter than his tights. His frock jacket the same deep brown as his other leather garments. Brown leather gloves ever present upon his hands, one of which held his riding crop. "Will we be riding?"

"This?" he held the stick up. "Oh I suppose we could ride."

It seemed as if she had not seen Chataigne in a mortal's lifetime. "Oh can we?"

"Chataigne is saddled and waiting at the Labyrinth's front gate. Shall we?" He offered her his arm and off they went. When Sarah looked back, she thought she saw a tear in Arulan's eye. Not wanting anything to spoil the ring, she made it a point to forget what she thought she saw, although she felt cold when she did.

"Hello boy," Sarah whispered as she stroked the horse's blaze. "You remember me, don't you? I remember you." Turning to Jareth she asked, "Where's Bagheera?"

"Bagheera is a sensitive thing, not used to a lot of other unfamiliar horses being around. They'll be quite a collection of fell ponies there tonight, best we not try his patience."

"Of course, so we'll ride together." Jareth nodded, "But I can't ride in this!" Sarah's face sunk as she looked at her clothes. Oh, and she had spent so much time putting herself together.

"I thought that you might ride side saddle. It would be quite a shame for you to have to change when you look so stunning as you are." Sarah looked at him in that coy way she had been as of late, eyes all turned down, peeking up from the sides with a blush on her cheeks. He mounted the horse and offered her his hand. Effortlessly , she was lifted up and sat before the king, both of her legs hanging over the left side of the horse. "You're torso should face front," he said, "while your waist will turn and allow your legs to dangle over his side." Using the hand free of the horse's reins, the king helped her into position.

Seems riding this way meant her bottom would be fitted into his crotch. 'Well if it must be done, it must be done,' she thought. Jareth placed an arm to either side of his mortal and split the reins. When the king asked if she was ready, Sarah nodded, but gasped when Chataigne's trot made her wobble to and fro on his back.

"Maybe you best hold on until you get used to riding this way," he suggested.

"Hold on to what?" she asked frantic.

Jareth halted the horse. He took her right hand and put it around his waist. "There, now let's give it another try." As they road on, Sarah let her head rest against Jareth's shoulder. He was thankful for it allowed him the freedom to breathe in her scent more deeply. Honey, vanilla and jasmine, his favorites.

Occasionally Sarah would open her eyes and try to determine where they were. They rode west, she was sure of that, further north than Gandor's sector, not as far north as the waterfall had been. The last of dusk had settled over them in a smoky grey film just as they reached a thick wall of trees. "Have we gone the wrong way?"

Jareth smiled and shook his head. Urging Chataigne on, he nudged the horse between the widest gap any of the tree trunks offered. Just barely, horse and riders slipped through. Inside, a huge circle had been created by some very large and colorful mushrooms. It was like an Aboveground carnival. People milling about in all directions, drinking, eating, laughing. A group danced next to a small stage where a singer crooned. Their movements grand, high kicking and swinging arms, trading partners and then trading back. The king watched her eyes as they grew with wonder and the night was still young, with many more surprises. He guided Chataigne to where the other horses were. A few compared to the gelding's stature, but most were lower to the ground, a deep onyx black with thick coats that grew shaggy at the animal's ankles and long tails that hung against the ground like a train.

"Those are the fell ponies I told you about." Jareth explained when he saw her gawking. "Very common among the wee folk." He dismounted and held up his hands, flicking his fingertips back at himself, indicating she should fall towards him. "Listen," he told her.

Sarah stood as motionless as a woodland creature who sensed peril nearby. One haunting voice began to fill the glen with it's melody. "How can you say you didn't know? How can you say he never tried? How can you turn on your heals to go, leaving your lover here to, leaving your lover here to cry over you, cry over you?" In her haste to obey the king's command, she had yet to take her arm from around him where it had landed when she came down from Chataigne's back. "Weren't those good times good enough, for you to make up your mind and who filled your head with this freedom stuff? Leaving your lover here to, leaving your lover here to, cry over you. He's gonna cry over you, cry over you." If the voice was haunting, the words were terrorizing, as they spoke all the things her head thought as Sarah looked upon the king, whose eyes closed as his heel rose and fell in rhythm with the song. "And he may wake in a stranger's bed and cover your tracks with those pretty blue eyes, but you can't run forever from what's in your head. One of these days you'll have to, one of these days you'll have to cry over you. Cry over you." Those three words echoed in the glen. Sarah didn't know for certain if everyone heard them or just her. Arulan was right, this was an ethereal place.

"That's Twink," Jareth said when the song had ended. "Sings like a giant, but she's only about the size of Hoggle's child. Come on, I'll introduce you." Ignoring the fact that her mouth was hung open, mistaking her being overwhelmed having been caused by the scene and not the song, Jareth grabbed her hand and they ran headlong into the ring.

"So you're Sarah," Twink said when they got closer. She was no taller than Hoggle's child, but she was sleek and trim, skin the color of peaches and bright blue hair that was done in a complicated twist, tendrils pulled free in defined curls.

"How'd you know my name?"

"Not many stories 'bout mortals in these parts, fewer actual mortals."

"Good point."

Someone shouted for the fairy from across the ring, "Gotta run. Listen you'll sing later right?" Twink asked the king.

"I don't know, I haven't really prepared anything. I've had a bit of a cold lately," he coughed to emphasize his point.

"False modesty, not your strong point. Sarah, you'll sing too right."

"I couldn't, I mean..."

"Look everybody sings here. Don't worry about it. Gotta go." When Twink turned to address the creature who had called for her, Sarah saw that she had wings. Proportionate to her body, they were thin, delicate, trimmed in blue with color splashed about the interior, shifting shades and interpretation as she flew away. Twink reminded her of an overgrown butterfly with the voice of an angel.

"That's Ilkor," Jareth pointed to a gnome who had gathered a small crowd around him. He wore a red coned hat, a crisp white shirt, baggy brown pants and loose green boots. It was like seeing someone's lawn ornament come to life. "He's going to tell a tale. Would you like to listen?" Sarah nodded anxiously.

"Your majesty, you've decided to join us."

"I have. What tale will you tell for us tonight?"

"Ahh," Ilkor drawled the expression out as he caused a hush to fall over the crowd. "Tonight a tale of love and suffering, a happy ending, but a permanent one." One of the listeners in the crowd drew in a sharp breath. "Long before people told tales about love and perseverance there lived a boy named William. From the time he had met young Barbara Allen he loved her." Ilkor wove the tale before them, a one man show filled with expression and physical movement that made one forget they weren't attending a performance. He told of how William pursued Barbara Allen relentlessly. Even serenading her in the rain until he caught pneumonia, which of course was typically fatal in that time. Barbara Allen visited William on his death bed and even there she couldn't reach beyond her selfishness. When poor William died, the lady moped about how she would perish just the same. Of course, she lived on years beyond William, but when she finally died, she was buried next to the man who loved her, agreeing to be with him in death as she could never be in life. "They were buried side by side beneath a tall, tall tower. From William's grave grew the red, red rose and from Barbara's grew the briar," Ilkor finished in lyrically rhythm.

The crowd erupted into a huge roar of cheers and applause. He certainly had a way of telling stories. When the praise had died down to a small thunder of accolades, Ilkor made his way to Jareth. "A fine story, my friend."

"Your majesty, you've not been to one of our festivities in near as long as my son has been alive."

"Timpin. How is he?"

"Just turned 75 last June. Got himself a great little stump not far north of here. He's met a young woman. Just a moment," he bent at the waist, placing a finger in either corner of his mouth and let out an ear piercing whistle. Two gnomes came running hand in hand through the crowd. "Jareth, this is my son Timpin and Zollie, his special lady." Sarah noticed that aside from Zollie's long pig tail braids and Timpin's short, white, full beard, the two looked very much alike. "Children, this is the Goblin King."

Zollie sunk to her knees. Timpin bowed, "Your highness."

"Oh, let's not be so formal now." He stooped trying to get closer to the gnome's height. "I knew you when you were just a sprout. My, but you've grown. Zollie, Timpin, this is Sarah Williams of the Aboveground."

"The legend?" Zollie asked her eyes wide like saucers.

"Just Sarah," the mortal told her.

Timpin took her hand in his and shook it wildly. "I can remember father's stories about your visit to our kingdom."

"I'm sure those stories have been embellished somewhat over the years," the mortal blushed.

"Not where your beauty was concerned." Zollie let out a tiny snort.

Ilkor laughed, "The perils of young love. Come you two, the maypole dance is beginning. Jareth, Sarah , why not join us."

"Milady," Jareth asked.

Around the maypole everyone had already chosen up ribbons, Sarah picked up a gold ribbon that remained on the ground. Jareth a blue one nearly opposite of her. The last of the dangling ribbons was lifted from the ground by a wood sprite. They alternated the directions in which they faced and when the music began they danced in and out, weaving around one another. Seeing Jareth engage in this kind of entertainment forced a smile on her lips. For him, watching her laugh and skip around the pole was less comical and more surreal. Everything about her was fluid perfection, she wore her soul on her sleeve, unable to hide her joy. 'She could thrive here,' he thought before banishing the idea in order to preserve his sanity. Eventually everyone was knotted close together around the pole. Couples kissed while they were already face to face. Strangers shook hands or hugged as a cordial greeting. Jareth and Sarah exchanged a sly glance. They noticed that everyone else had stopped to watch them, waiting to see how they would react. The king coughed and Sarah straightened her dress.

"Kiss her," shouted an elf in the crowd of onlookers. It began a chant from within the collection of maypole dancers.

"Kiss her, kiss her, kiss her."

"I don't think they'll let us out alive if we don't oblige them," Jareth chided.

Sarah looked up at him, her eyes smiling as she licked her lip subtly, "Then I suppose we have no choice." His glove spanned the back of her neck, forcing her head to tilt upward. Their lips met and the chanters hushed. It was a gentle kiss, but a passionate one. The silence was soon replaced by ooohs and awwws which caused Sarah's lips to spread into a wide smile, the king still attempting to kiss her. He gave up when she broke into hysteric laughter. Blush covered his cheeks and the corner of his lips curled as he watched her giggle, not yet sure whether to be offended by her response.

"I'm hungry," she said when the fit of giggles finally passed.

"Then we'll eat." In a separate section of the ring there were booths that served ales and punches, meats, cheeses, fruit and desserts like the ones Arulan had described. Sarah and Jareth walked along the many booths sampling the tasty treats until they were full and anxious to sit. The fires had been lit and everyone had gathered to watch the dancing and listen to the beautiful music. Jareth would describe the different species as they took the stage. Everything from the tiniest pixie to largest troll. It was a great relief to both of them that neither Tiberon or Maeve had decided to attend.

A lively upbeat song filled the glen as two by two the attendants rose to join those who had already been dancing. Jareth stood before Sarah, his gloved hand reaching out to her. Sarah's palm slid tentatively into his glove. No sooner was she up and on her feet, Jareth swung her into his arms and began skipping her over the grass. His hand pushed her hip, leading her in the right directions as he smiled, disarming her. It was less formal dancing than what they'd done at the castle, but it was far more fun. By the time the song ended, Sarah's cheeks ached from smiling.

Twink took the stage again, "For those of you who've yet to meet the king's guest, allow me to introduce Sarah Williams of the Aboveground." The crowd applauded. Sarah suddenly realized that even without a microphone the voices of the men and women upon the stage seemed to fill the glen. Jareth poked at her side with his elbow. "Come on Sarah. Don't make me fly out there and get you." When she stood and began to make her way to the stage, to cheers and applause got louder. "Sarah dear, we were hoping you would sing something for us. Rumor has it that you've got quite a lovely voice."

"I couldn't possibly. I'm not very familiar with the types of music you play."

From the crowd came shouts of, "Sing us something from your world," and "How about one of your kinds of songs."

"I suppose I could," she said hesitantly. "One of the first shows I ever got booked in was called Oliver and in it I sung this song." Before she began to sing she cleared her throat. "As long as he needs me, oh yes, he does need me. In spite of what you see, I'm sure that he needs me. Who else would love him still, when they've been used so ill? He knows I always will, as long as he needs me." As Jareth had during her audition in New York, he sat mesmerized by the shear magic of her voice. "I miss him so much when he is gone, but when he's near me, I don't let on. The way I feel inside, the love I have to hide, the hell, I've got my pride as long as he needs me." Those notes were powerful ones and the king noticed his skin had pulled up in small bumps all along his arms. He was thankful for those long sleeves. "He doesn't say the things he should. He acts the way he thinks he should, but all the same, I'll play this game his way, as long as he needs me." It was a moment after the last note rang when the applause began. Sarah had focused her attention on where Jareth sat, hypnotized by his hands banging together. If she didn't know better she'd have said she could pick out the distinct sound of one leather glove striking the other. After a small bow, she returned to her seat.

"That was beautiful. There's your real magic," Jareth told her when she took her seat at his side, shivering a little as night came to the glen. He removed his frock and slung it across her shoulders. The garment still held his body heat. Sarah pulled it tighter against herself and slid closer to his side. In the shadows he smiled down at her.

The night wore on with more folk singing and Ilkor's tales of hard fought love that didn't always work out as it had been planned. Jareth would lean over and explain some of the old English words to the mortal. Sometimes she was thankful, other times offended that he couldn't give her more credit, but she didn't let it show. They were having a fantastic time. In fact, were she to get asked, she may have even said, it rather felt like a date. To take it one step farther, it was the best date she'd had in a long, long time.

"It's almost time for the Gach Ean, but before that, there's a certain fey in the audience who has tried to escape from having to sing all night. Jareth get up here and sing for us before I have my brother turn you into a toad."

Before he transported to the stage, he patted Sarah's leg. Beside Twink, before the crowd, he told her, "Unlikely."

"Put your money where your melody is Goblin King," Twink told him.

The music began just a moment before Jareth's voice spilled over the glen, "I've heard there was a secret chord that David played and it pleased the Lord, but you don't really care for music do you? It goes like this the fourth, the fifth, the minor fall, the major lift, the baffled king composing Hallelujah. Hallelujah. Hallelujah. Hallelujah. Hallelujah. Your faith was strong, but you needed proof. You saw her bathing on the roof, her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you," he looked directly at Sarah as he sung about beauty and moonlight. "She tied you to a kitchen chair, she broke your throne and she cut your hair and from your lips she drew the Hallelujah. Hallelujah. Hallelujah. Hallelujah. Hallelujah. Maybe I've been here before, I know this room, I've walked this floor. I used to live alone before I knew you," Again his eyes met the mortal who laid her head on her shoulder and swayed as she lost her self in the gentle rhythm of his voice. "I've seen your flag on the marble arch. Love is not a victory march. It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah. Hallelujah. Hallelujah. Hallelujah. Hallelujah. There was a time you let me know what's real and going on below, but now you never show it to me, do you? I remember when I moved in you, your holy dark was moving too and every breath we drew was Hallelujah. Hallelujah. Hallelujah. Hallelujah. Hallelujah. Maybe there's a God above and all I ever learned from love was how to shoot at someone who out drew you." Bent on one knee, Jareth locked his eyes on his mortal with a truth and a sincerity that touched her to the core. Though she didn't notice, the entire crowd had turned their eye from Jareth's performance to watch Sarah's reaction to his poignant last verse, "It's not a cry you can hear at night. It's not somebody who's seen the light. It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah. Hallelujah. Hallelujah. Hallelujah. Hallelujah."

When she realized all eyes were upon her, Sarah looked about nervously and began to applaud. The tactic worked to distract them from her flustered appearance. She was speechless when the king returned to her side. She could only stare at him. "Well," he asked, "What did you think?"

"It was unlike anything I've ever heard before."

"Is that a good thing?"

"It's an amazing thing."

"I'll take that as a compliment." Her arm slid through his as she returned his smile.

Back on the stage, the band began the Gach Ean. The lyrics were short but incredibly serious, especially when sung by a satyr with a voice that echoed in the wood as he performed the refrain, "Nothing is certain, but I will die with you. Whiskey falls. I don't want to lose someone like you."

One by one the couples got up to dance a choreographed number they all seemed to know. For some it was the first time they had ever danced this dance, while for others it was an anniversary of the hundredth time or more. "Let's dance," Sarah suggested to the king.

"The Gach Ean is a courting dance Sarah. It's not the kind of dance one enters into lightly for the thrill of the dance. These people are either committed to one another or committing to one another by dancing." His hand moved in a sweeping gesture indicating the many pairs.

Timpin and Zollie were dancing, their eyes locked upon one another as tightly as their hands were clasped. Ilkor and his wife. The last wood sprite to pick up a ribbon at the maypole dance and the someone Sarah had seen her snuggling with when the dance had ended. "But it looks like such fun," she said grabbing his arm, her hands rubbing at the defined muscles beneath the silk.

"Sarah, how much have you had to drink tonight?" He stood quickly before he gave in to her tempting touch.

"I haven't touched a drop. Not wine or mead, ginger beer nor heather ale. I may never touch alcohol again." She grabbed him round his narrow waist. "You. You intoxicate me."

"I'm taking you home," he said decidedly, walking her in the direction of Chataigne.

"Good. Take me home, take me deep into the glen, or back to the waterfall. Take me any place you like." Alone with only the horses to witness them, her eyes danced over his face, eyes to lips, hither and yon again. "You are my king and I shall do as I'm told your majesty, I only beg that you take me," stopping their frantic roaming, her eyes locked with his, "tonight."

"Where is this coming from?"

"My heart. My head. Both if they've conspired against me, neither if I am mistaken. What does it matter? I have never in all my life felt as alive as I do this instant. The moon and the stars, they dance for me alone. This night, this magic, I want it to last forever."

"All good things must end," Jareth said as he mounted the gelding. "Give me your hand."

"Only if you'll take everything that comes along with it." On horseback she nuzzled herself into position between his thighs, thrilled to have his arms about her. Her left arm snaked behind his back. Her right forearm rested on his chest, her fingers twisting his hair. Halfway home, when the king hadn't had much to say, Sarah pressed her lips against his throat. If he'd have told her he wanted her to stop, it would have been a lie, but if he allowed it to continue, things would progress. He'd made his decision while he watched her dance under the moon that night. Unless he could love her, fully and completely, he could not love her at all.

Outside the Labyrinth, he tethered Chataigne. Just before dawn, Gribbin would come and take him to the barn. There was nothing to worry about. He transported the mortal to her room. "Thank you for accompanying me this evening. I had a pleasant time."

"A pleasant time. Your majesty, I could show you a pleasant time," her hands worked at the cravat around his neck.

"Sarah," he pleaded grabbing her wrists and lowering her arms to her sides. "I can't do this, not tonight," pain filled his mismatched eyes.

"Right. Well I wouldn't want to make you do anything, you didn't want to do." Her head hung as she slipped out of his frock and handed it back to him.

He knotted the coat in his hands. He wanted to do the same thing she wanted to do, perhaps even more than she wanted to do it. But without being able to confess the love in his heart, it no longer meant anything. The king couldn't find the satisfaction in just pleasing her any longer. He wanted to please them both, but as he told his mortal, not tonight.


	27. Chapter 27

**CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN - THE VISIT TO THE SOUTHWEST**

Breakfast came late Friday morning. Jareth's servant, ever hopeful that his majesty would confess his true feelings for the mortal, thought they may have gotten in late and would like to sleep in. "Good morning your majesty," she sang as she brought in his tray.

"Is it?"

"Oh, come now, you're just groggy," the elf commented when she saw the dark circles under his eyes. "What time did you get in last night?"

"I don't remember, late, sometime after midnight," Jareth stared blankly at the ceiling refusing to acknowledge her presence in his room.

"What time did you get to bed?"

"It's on my to do list."

"Did you at least have a good time?" Arulan was nothing if she wasn't persistent.

The king slid up so that his back rested against his intricately carved headboard, "I had the time of my life Arulan, and that's saying quite a bit. Ilkor was there. He reminded me how many years have passed since I last attended a ring. It's been too long." A whimsical haze clouded his eyes, "The music, the dancing, the food, the maypole. Twink was running the show. Some things never change. She got Sarah to sing."

"What did she sing?"

"Some tune from one of the shows she's done."

"Lovely I bet," Arulan guessed as she removed the silver dome from over Jareth's breakfast.

Jareth picked at his food, "More than lovely. The words, I don't know what it is with mortals, but I wonder if they ever listen to the words in their songs. The way it talked about a secret devotion, a woman who had feelings for some man who didn't always behave the way other people thought he should. Not a particularly nice man I assume, but she loved him dearly, though she wouldn't admit it." A heavy sigh and he continued, "It got me wishfully thinking I suppose."

"Why not? You don't know for certain that Sarah didn't choose that song so you would hear those words. She's never behaved like your average mortal in any situation she's been in up until now, let's not make her one over this! Jareth," her voice pleaded, "You've got to tell her."

"How? How do you tell someone who's so young in the scheme of things that you want to offer them forever? She didn't understand then, I doubt she will now. How do I ask her to give up her friends, her family, her career, everything she has ever known? You don't just walk up to a woman and say, 'Look, been thinking, and well, I love you.'"

"Well no, of course you don't do it like that. You two are leaving for Gandor's in four days, why not tell her while you're there."

"We'll be busy. There's so much to see. The workshop is going to be in full swing. She'll want to visit. Gandor will have tasks. And by the time we get to Elbereth's, it'll be the same thing." He sipped at the juice on his tray. "If I'm going to tell her, I have to do it in a way that's as special as she is, as unique. You didn't see her last night. She was so at ease, so filled with wonder at everything she was seeing and participating in. For a time I even thought that she might feel something romantic for me, but then I blamed it on the night and the magic."

"What happened?"

"The Gach Ean, she wanted to dance the Gach Ean. When I told her what it was, after we'd left, on our way home she said that I intoxicated her, she wanted me to, I mean us to...be intimate."

"And you rejected her?"

"What was I supposed to do? Take her off into the woods and have my way with her?"

"It's an idea," Arulan said causing the Goblin King's jaw to drop.

"I'm surprised at you. 'Court her,' you said. 'Court her without letting her know you're courting her.' Next thing I know you're telling me to take her out to the grove for a romp. I surely wish you'd make up your mind."

"Woman take rejection harder than men," she said.

"Bet me!"

"Poor thing's probably so embarrassed."

Jareth noticed that Arulan no longer seemed to be paying any attention to him. Her thoughts were on how to fix what the king had done, or not done as it were, and he thought he was just being a gentleman. "Uh, immortal, afraid of losing the woman he loves and/or dying when she runs off with his soul."

"I'll talk to her for you, but I know this much Jareth, you have got to tell her how you feel. She's only here for three more weeks. I don't care how you do it, but you've got to do it and you've got to do it soon."

"It's on my to do list," he grumbled as she left.

Sarah's duvet was pulled up over the pillows, a near perfectly circular mound in the center of it. Gently, Arulan peeled back the cover only to be met by ten pink toes. "Sarah?" The girl twisted around beneath the blanket and popped her head up. "Dear, what's wrong?"

"Everything," she pouted then, feeling a bit childish, she smoothed over her wild hair, "Nothing, nothing that isn't my own fault."

"Why be so hard on yourself girl?"

"Please don't take this the wrong way but, you and Jareth, you have a relationship and I don't want to damage that relationship anymore than I already have. You've made me feel like, like I belong here even though I'm from someplace very different, someplace most people here despise. I just don't think we should discuss these things."

"Is this about what happened after the ring?"

"Oh God," Sarah shrieked. "He told you! Of course he told you. I'm so embarrassed, even more embarrassed than last night."

"What have you to be embarrassed about?" the elf asked, trying to settle the girl's flapping hands.

"It wasn't his fault. He didn't do anything." That was a half truth, the king had kissed her on the maypole, but he was taunted. "I was just so caught up in the night and I didn't want it to end so," she gulped trying to get the lump in her throat to move, "I threw myself at him. I practically begged him to make love to me, but he resisted. I swear and now I feel just awful about the whole thing."

Arulan smiled, "Oh dear, if that's all, what have you got to feel sorry about? The Goblin King is a complicated fey. He does things for strange reasons sometimes and I don't think anyone understands why but him. Just give him his space and let him do what he needs to do, that's how I'd handle it." To the elf it seemed perfectly clear. She had told the girl to be patient and let Jareth come to her. But what Sarah heard was that some times the king needed to do certain things and Arulan merely let him do it. Must have been that last night Sarah was not one of the things he needed to do. The elf revealed Sarah's breakfast. She only pushed it around on her plate utterly baffled at why Arulan let Jareth treat her the way he did. Arulan left Sarah's room shortly after she'd begun to eat, feeling as though she had done her part to get them together.

Embarrassed by her behavior with the king, as well as being embarrassed by her conversation with Arulan, Sarah hid most of the day. Between going to the king's office for books and reading them in her room, it was a relatively easy task. They'd be off again soon and dinners just before they left were always a big deal. Sarah decided that she would ask to be allowed to visit Hoggle for dinner at least one of those nights. The king was just happy that she was asking to go there and not to Tiberon's. He gave her a single night. She'd enjoyed that night quite a lot. Chatting with Drema, playing with Sarah One, and Hoggle's endless admiration of her seemed to do much to restore her confidence.

The afternoon before they were scheduled to leave, while Sarah was flipping through a book about Sidhe, it occurred to her that Jareth had wanted her to practice magic this week so she didn't get ill when visiting the western sectors. He must have changed his mind because he never came looking for her. In fact, outside of their consultation about visiting Hoggle, she'd done a good job of avoiding him altogether. Jareth was pleased to have the time alone. It wasn't because he didn't want to see the mortal - quite the contrary. He spent countless hours in his music room trying to come up with a way to do just that.

Dinner the night before they left came and went without conflict. Everyone seemed lost in their own thoughts, even though their thoughts were basically the same. Deverell and Dalkeil had sent their apologies in advance, but they were going into the woods to meet an elf who would be crafting a sword for the young fey. Turgomon was busy making the arrangements for the visit to the southwest. When at last Sarah laid her head upon her pillow, she could rest easily, feeling as if what had transpired between her and Jareth was now just a distant memory of a silly misunderstanding. Mortals can be so foolish.

As the sun illuminated the Labyrinth, Jareth, dressed in hunter green breeches, a cream shirt and a black waist coat, met Sarah in the main entrance. She was wearing black breeches and a deep green sweater, upon Arulan's suggestion she wore a pair of gloves. "Not that it will be cold," the elf had told her, "but if you're playing in the snow, it'll keep you dry." A native always knows best.

"Gloves?" Jareth asked when he saw her.

"Took a tip from your fashion designer," Sarah leveled.

"Not in those boots you didn't," Jareth sparred back. After all her boots were mid calf, black leather, but they had no heel. Atrocious!

Feeding her arm through his, Sarah prepared for the transport. Maybe she could get through this humiliation after all. He didn't seem to give one iota that she had brazenly made a spectacle of herself. They arrived seconds later at the door to Gandor's ice castle. The Representative met them there, greeting Sarah first. "Look at you," he praised. "Lovely sweater, angora?"

"I think. Arulan had it made."

"Well she had it made with your beautiful green eyes in mind and that cowl neck, it frames your face quite nicely. Oh, if I was only a few centuries younger and mortal," he feigned woe. "And you old man, how have you been?"

"I hate when you call me old man."

"Time to face facts Jareth after 150 it's all down hill." Gandor's white beard shook when he laughed as his full cheeks rose to hide his eyes. "Come in, come in."

"So what's on your honey do list," Sarah asked, chipper at seeing a familiar face she knew she could trust.

Gandor looked at her with confusion in his gentle eyes, "Honeydew list?"

"Mortal thing I suppose. Honey do list. Honey, do this or honey, do that." She waited for the recognition to set in and was rewarded with deep throaty chuckling when it came.

"Yes, well we have plenty of time for that. First let's talk. Jareth tells me you've been having some trouble with Tiberon." Sarah shot Jareth a look of betrayal. "Now wait," Gandor went on, "I told you once before that if he bothered you, you had but to let me know. So far as we Representatives go, Tiberon is a pup. Appointed by the third king only centuries ago. Me, I'm the Gavel's brother, I've been around for a few millennia. Let's just say I have ways of handling him." Gandor smiled a proud smile as he leaned back in a chair in the sitting room where he had led them and invited his company to do the same.

"It wasn't Tiberon whose been giving me the trouble, it's Maeve."

"Maeve you say," Gandor looked at Jareth.

The king had hoped he and the Representative could have discussed this privately, but since that was not to be, "Maeve was the one she saw with the actual powder, but I think they're in cahoots."

"It wouldn't surprise me if they were. Tiberon seems to perpetually have his nose in something, usually anything that makes you unhappy," he gestured toward the king.

Sarah's thoughts about Tiberon's motives started to swing out of the neutral zone and lean toward suspicion. Between the dream and now Gandor's take on the situation. Jareth had mellowed these last few days where the topic was concerned and without him applying pressure to see things his way, Sarah was able to start putting it together on her own. It was obvious Tiberon had put a lot of planning into the dinner, down to taking extra steps to keep Jareth away. Why would he just let Maeve slip in the back with a handful of dust? That spinning feeling she got the first time they had dined alone, it was just like when Jareth had given her the peach. Suddenly memories she didn't want came flooding into her mind. "On second thought Gandor, I think I would like you to have a word with him," Sarah said, still dazed by her returning memory.

"Just one?" Gandor asked. "I can think of at least two. Oh, no make that twelve, but only if I need to summarize. If you'll allow me, I'd be happy to elaborate in epic length proportions…"

Jareth raised his hand to the Representative, concern on his face, "Sarah are you alright?"

"I remember, that first night at his castle. I remember, just before desert I started to feel odd, kind of like wine going to my head, but then everything started to wobble and spin. It was like when I ate the peach. I asked him to help me just before everything went black." Her rich skin went pale. "Until...I don't know when. I just remember you being there."

"Sarah, don't work yourself up. You don't have to remember. It's over now."

Tears filled her eyes, "It's not over, something happened. I can hear your voice, low and loud in my head. It's not over until I remember what happened Jareth and I think you can tell me."

"You were weak and tired. True to my word I returned at sunset to collect you."

"Yes, you had to carry me because I couldn't stand. I didn't wake up until I was in your arms. Your hair was in my face, but my arms were so heavy I just tried to shake it away." Sarah's eyes closed tightly, her head shaking slightly back and forth. She tried to recall that night, piece together the parts he was leaving out. "You wrapped me up in a blanket, but I wasn't cold. I was actually very warm, too warm. The drugs and the exhaustion, I was dripping with sweat, but you," wide green eyes looked at him, dimmed with humiliation, her arms folded around her body. "I was naked."

"Sarah I'm sorry," the king said sincerely.

"He…he took my clothes. I was in his bedroom," the poor girl was horrified. It was everything Jareth could do to keep from taking her in his arms in an effort to protect her, but he had a feeling that a man's closeness was the last thing she wanted right now. Her skin was crawling at the idea of it all. "What if he…oh my God…what if he…"

Jareth ended her torment, "He did not." Even though he wasn't positive, he was sure enough. He needed to be, needed to be sure enough for both of them. "My healer looked you over thoroughly Sarah. Tiberon did nothing but create an elaborate scene that might indicate to someone that something more had happened."

"And did he succeed?" The king tilted his head in confusion, "Did he succeed in making you believe that something more happened?"

"For a time. You were acting very strangely. Tiberon and I exchanged a few words. His performance alone was very convincing. Then there was the fact that you wished to return to his home a second time, but when the healer said you'd been given a hallucinogen, I knew he'd used the drug to make himself seem more appealing to you."

"I didn't do anything. I wouldn't! I don't care what I've ever said to you Jareth, I would never consciously do those kinds of things," in her fury it crossed her mind to admit, 'with anyone here, but you'; however, she was still aware of Gandor's presence and concluded by saying, "not with him."

Jareth took her hands into his own. It felt strange with her thin fingers encased in leather. He thought for a minute if he must feel this strange to her. "I know," he said with the smooth consoling tones of a doting lover. Perhaps with too much emotion, for her eyes snapped on him.

A moment later she pulled her hands from his, unsheathed them from the gloves, wiped her eyes and inquired, "If you don't mind, I feel as though I'd like to bathe again today."

Gandor called for one of his elves, "Take the young lady to her room, show her where she can freshen up."

"Excuse me," Sarah said as she left the men behind, both of whom rose until she had left the room.

"I'll do worse than have words with him," Gandor growled. "I'll have his pointed little head on a stick." His thick fists crashed against the table causing a deep crack in the ice.

"Easy does it my friend. I've already been through being angry with him. Making us angry is exactly what he wants. Unfortunately Sarah has been made a victim by his games, but, she is resilient. I believe she'll be fine once she's had time to realize that she is not responsible for what was done to her. We, on the other hand, must play our cards wisely. We must outsmart him, that means first finding out what game the enemy is playing." Jareth drummed his fingertips on the table. "The Gavel wouldn't do me a favor if I asked him with my dying breath, but if his brother asked him, perhaps he could tell us something more."

"I'll pay him a visit as soon as you and the girl have left this sector Jareth, I've told Sarah from her second day here that she had but to call upon me." A pause came between them, broken when the Representative asked, "You have a great compassion for the girl, your majesty. More than I have seen you display with any woman. I wonder if the stakes aren't personal for you this time."

"He's causing trouble in my kingdom, that makes it personal."

Gandor smiled knowingly at him, "She's a very beautiful woman son, you don't have anything to be ashamed of."

Lunch was being served in the dining room by the time the mortal joined them again. This time the conversation was much lighter than it had been when first they arrived. "Well, hello there," Gandor boomed. "Jareth and I were just saying that thanks to your earlier visit, there isn't a whole lot left to be done in these parts. There's an ice jam in one of the streams that leads away from the lake, but we can deal with that in the morning. I thought that perhaps rather than casting spells left and right, you might like to lend a hand in the workshop while you're here."

"Santa's workshop?" she asked. Gandor nodded. Her face was lit by the childlike innocence Jareth had seen at the ring. "Are you serious?"

"Absolutely. He's getting down to the wire, he'll be furry red hat over his golden boot buckles to have extra helpers. I'll take you over myself as soon as we've finished lunch."

Though she tried to be polite, Sarah ate at the speed of light. She felt like she was nine again, eager to go and meet a man, an entire race, she had thought were nothing more than inventions of the parental mind. Jareth noticed her anxiousness and shoved his plate away, "I don't think I could eat another bite."

"Well, then I guess we're off." The threesome went north from Gandor's castle towards the puffs of smoke which rose from the workshop. Gandor had to duck to get through the front door. The inside of the shop was like a combination between the workings of a grandfather clock and an exploded toy chest. Belts and conveyers, springs and gears, all moving something along. Assembly lines of little elves in green tunics and striped leggings, painting and putting together toys, addressing tags and wrapping gifts. Dolls, trucks, sports gear, clothes, bears, anything any child could want hung from hooks or waited in bins or being freshly assembled in every direction.

Sarah's bottom jaw hung low when she heard the laughter of a rosy cheeked old man. Behind his wire rims, two blue eyes looked at her. Swallowing up her hand in his white gloves, Santa repeated her name thoughtfully, "Sarah Williams. Sarah Williams. I don't think I have anything for you." His finger rose to his nose and then reached under his red velvet, fur trimmed hat and scratched at his head. "You haven't asked me for anything in a very long time. Did I disappoint you one Christmas?"

Tears filled her eyes, "No, no, you never disappointed me. Somewhere along the line I stopped believing in you and I stopped asking."

Catching the falling tears on a hanky that he pulled from inside his coat, Santa said, "Hush girl. I've yet to meet the adult who hasn't done the same exact thing." He offered her the tissue, the tears she'd cried now turned to candy buttons. "Have one."

Sarah crunched down on one of the bits, "How'd you do that?"

"Wasn't me," he feigned innocence. "You must just be that sweet." His finger tapped her nose. "You're more honest than most. Lots of times I hear about how someone wanted a new car, but they got lottery tickets instead. This is a workshop, not a Chrysler dealership. They gave the tickets away, but what they didn't know is the tickets were big winners. Plenty for a deposit on a new car. Remember what you asked me for when you were eight?"

Shyly Sarah confessed, "A pony."

"And what did you get?"

"An English Sheepdog."

"Which…"

"Which I rode like a pony until I was eleven."

"See it all works out. And when you were fourteen, you asked for a castle."

Sarah remembered that now, "And you gave me an easy bake oven."

"So I did," he chuckled. "But I gave Jareth the news that Toby was about to be born and told him he ought to keep an eye on you." If her mouth wasn't gapping before it was now. As if Sarah didn't look shocked enough, Jareth's face was splashed with waves of horror and betrayal, his secret revealed. "See what people don't understand is that I'm Santa Claus, not a genie. I take what people want, consider what they need and try to ascertain what's best for them. Unless they're naughty, then it's just coal, coal, coal!" His belly really did shake like a bowl full of jelly when he laughed. The harder he laughed, the more it shook. "Now, the holidays are upon us and I'd say your faith in me is restored," she shook her head to indicate he was indeed correct, "so tell me what can I bring you this Christmas?"

Sarah looked at him. "I don't think I need to tell you."

"No," he winked. "I suppose you don't." A new found understanding between them, they walked on, "Come, I'll let you work in the paint shop with some of my elves." Jareth's jaw dropped as his eyes pleaded with Gandor for some explanation. The Representative only shrugged and followed behind the mortal. "Your majesty, I thought we'd put those muscles of yours to good use, loading my sacks."

"Surely you're not suggesting that as a king I engage in manual labor?"

"Do you want coal again this year?" Santa's bushy eyebrows furrowed at the king's attempt to weasel out of helping.

"Well I find it incredibly unfair that you take one's profession into account when doling out these gifts of yours."

"Really, I wonder what your basis for comparison is?" Even the Representative had to chuckle at Santa's quick wit.

The Goblin King cleared his throat. "Yes, well, lawyers for instance, they still get presents don't they?" Righteous indignation dripped from his words, a wide smile indicating he felt he'd proven his point.

"Yes, I suppose some of them do, but I wouldn't say it puts any big dent in the season's budget." Santa smirked beneath his massive white beard, "If you'd rather, you could shovel the reindeer stalls."

"No, no, I'll stuff the sacks. But there best be something more than coal in my stockings this year."

"Stockings?" Sarah asked. "Isn't it usually one per customer?"

"It is his kingdom," Santa sighed. "Furley, Roper," he said to two of the elves as they entered the paint shop, "this is Sarah. She's going to help out around here today. Now, no goofing off. I want you to make a good impression."

The elves greeted Sarah and hurriedly took her to an empty artist's table and explained to her what she needed to do. The dolls and other toys would come down the assembly line where they dropped into a bin. The elves each took a toy from the bin, back to their tables and painted it. When it was painted, they moved it to the drying rack and then other elves would come take the toys from the drying rack and move them to the finishing room. She couldn't help thinking how organized they all seemed. Hours passed quickly as she used brushes to turn fire engines red and center a pair of ruby lips below the button eyes of a floppy rag doll. It was three o'clock when the first whistle blew in three quick short bursts. All the elves dropped their brushes and scurried off. Furley waved to Sarah, "It's break time. We only get twenty minutes. Come on, come on."

She followed him outside. With everyone gathered out in the snow, Sarah could see just how many hands it took to keep the shop running, hundreds of them. Some of them skated around the pond, others played in the snow. Some found places to sit and play cards or chess. Roper was busy trying to roll the bottom mound of a snowman, but the ball of snow was now far too big for him to manipulate. Pulling her gloves from the waistband of her breeches, Sarah donned the leather barriers and began to fashion a ball of snow in her hand. When Roper wasn't looking, she tossed it in his direction causing it to crack over his left shoulder. The elf jumped. Sarah laughed. When he caught her enjoying herself, he smiled. Furley joined in the fun, chucking another snowball in Roper's direction.

Before long about a dozen of them were involved in the battle. Somehow Sarah had managed to avoid getting hit at all. A few flakes of snow caught in her hair as the projectiles whizzed passed her head. The white was a perfect contrast to her black locks. Her cheeks were rosied by the chill in the air. Jareth watched from a hill, propped against a tree, where he took his break alone, without even Gandor for company. He saw her laughing, the contagious, full kind of laughter that caught among everyone who could hear her. Her small hands wrapped over her stomach as she exploded in a hearty guffaw. Just then, a snowball flung towards an elf who had managed to duck the blow, struck Sarah in the hip. It didn't end her laughter, just broke it for a moment. It was obviously a younger elf who had launched the blow. The tiny culprit froze with fear that he would be punished for his attack on their guest, but Sarah merely chased him until he was caught and then swung him around in her arms. They shared a smile as she returned him to the snowy ground. Jareth looked on, the snow now filling her hair with a thick blanket of white, like a lace veil that still let some of her rich black color show through. Beauty surrounded her, emitted from her like a light that shone brighter than the sun. He looked on, a smile he couldn't hide twisting his lips into a wide grin. The king's keen observation of her did not escape Sarah's attention. Rather she sent one of the smaller elves sneaking off armed with a snowball all his own and instructions to fire when he saw Jareth's mismatched eyes. Sarah watched intently, distracting him with her smile as the elf hurled the handful of wet snow, pegging him in his side. The mortal laughed twice as hard as she had earlier. Jareth smiled down the hill at her, raising his eyebrow enough to let her know he was aware of her role in this act of treason. After a moment he smiled back at her, like the snow collecting in her hair, trapped in the same web of elegance that he'd fallen prey to.

Moments later he charged down the hill towards her, grabbing her up in his hands and spinning her madly. Clumps of snow fell from her hair and pattered against his cheeks, but Jareth didn't care. "Sending your henchmen after me has its consequences you know."

"What may they be? Will you spin me about until I get sick?" Sarah continued laughing, "I should think you would rather get the brunt of such punishment."

"Right you are," he conceded lowering the mortal to the ground. Slightly off center from the huge circles she'd been swung in, Sarah stumbled back, lost footing and plopped into the thick blanket of snow. Still having quite a good time, she lie back and began to flap her arms and legs. "Good God, what've I done? Are you having a seizure?"

"No silly," Sarah reassured him reaching out, "give me your hand." Once the king had helped her to her feet, she turned around and looked down at her creation. As Sarah extended one arm in a presentational sweep, she explained, "Snow angel." Jareth couldn't have agreed more.

One would think that sleeping in an ice castle, on a bed made of ice, with nothing more than linens between the cold and the skin would chill a body to the bone, but that was the thing which Sarah had grown to love most about this sector. It didn't. Even buried knee deep in the snow, it was still comfortable. She awoke feeling rested and eager to go back to Santa's workshop. After the rousing snowball fight she'd initiated the day before, her evening passed entirely too quickly. Gandor forced them home at seven for their evening meal and this morning she had promised to tend to the ice jam in the river. It seemed as though she would never get back to the workshop. On she trudged, wedged protectively between the Representative and the king, through the snow to fulfill the promises the Triumvirate had made for her. A heavy sigh escaped her lips when they came to the workshop and just kept walking.

"You really enjoyed working there didn't you?" Jareth asked.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, yeah, I really did. I don't know, they're all just so cute and tiny. Besides, every fire truck I painted yesterday is going to make some kid happy in a couple of weeks when they wake up and come running down the stairs filled with amazement over a visit from Santa Claus." She was beaming at the thought.

"Good deedster," the king chided.

Sarah's hands rose to her ears, palm side up, "Kinda my job."

"Speaking of which," Gandor stopped at the bank of the river before the ice jam, "Care to have a go at this?"

The girl stepped up to the river bank, determination filling her stare as she took in the enormity of the chunks of ice blocked across the water. "Sarah, are you sure you're feeling well enough to attempt this? I mean after all..."

"After all," she finished, "I've had plenty of rest for days now." Her hand rested against the Goblin King's lapel, "You're here, nothing is going to happen to me."

Obviously flustered by her proclamation of trust in him, he placed his hand over hers and stammered, "Right. Well, then get on with it."

In her mind, Sarah concocted a vision of warm summer breezes and swiftly flowing water, a bright noon sun heating the earth from all it's many light years away. But no matter how she tried to focus on the elements, other things kept entering the vision. Warm summer breezes would sweep in over a beach like the one in the Northeast, only far less foreboding, and she would see herself with Jareth on the sand, folded inside his frock coat, warmed by what was left of his body heat. Not exactly the kind of thing that would likely melt an ice jam. It was no better with the hot sun. Too much like their adventures in the meadows when they were traveling to and from the mountains. The rushing water in her vision was meant to represent the river she'd come to repair, but it quickly arched into a waterfall, the kind she and Jareth had hidden beneath. Sarah gasped at the recollection.

"What is it?" Gandor asked rushing to her side.

"Sarah?" Jareth followed.

Opening her eyes, the mortal was disappointed to see hardly any of the ice had melted. "Did I do something wrong?" she asked looking at the king with concern. "What if the powder that Maeve used did something to disrupt my magic?" Her voice was filling with panic and her eyes with fear.

Black gloves smoothed over her hair. "Relax. You know your emotions will impact your magic. I'm sure your just having trouble concentrating because of wanting to be at the workshop." Sure, that was what she was thinking about. "You don't feel nauseous or dizzy do you? Do you want to sit down?"

"I am thinking about going back to the shop," she lied. "I feel fine, I just need to concentrate." Closing her eyes she thought about a long hot bath, water steaming up around her, each muscle relaxing. In no time at all she heard the river flowing free again.

Gandor was whooping praise, as Jareth caressed her bare arm. "Job well done," he told her. Somehow accolades from the king always pleased her most of all.

"I'd say your job here is done. Now why not run along to the workshop and get in a full day's work, you slacker."

Sarah beamed as she ran toward the billowing clouds. "Shall we?" Jareth asked the Representative.

"Don't be a damned fool, Jareth. Run after her. I'll meet you at the castle for dinner."

Had his emotions become all that obvious? "Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure. Some things a person just needs to do. Speaking of which..." Gandor rose his eyebrows as he nodded in the direction Sarah had just run off in.

Jareth had started to run after the mortal, but froze in his tracks, "I thought you said..."

"I know, but I just better let you get moving before I lose your attention all together." He watched the king go on in pursuit of her and then called, "Jareth, there is one thing;" when Jareth turned around he suggested, "why not go and visit Oberon while you're here? I know how much he'd love to see you, not to mention Sarah."

"I can't take her to meet him."

"Why not?"

Wasn't it obvious? "How am I supposed to explain bringing her home to meet my great grandfather?"

"Sooner or later, king. The choice is yours." Gandor turned to walk away.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Though Gandor pretended to ignore the king's question, he repeated it anyway. "What is that supposed to mean? Gandor? I know you can hear me. Gandor!" Giving up, Jareth used his magic to transport to a spot just a few steps behind Sarah before breaking out in a quick sprint and catching up.

"So you really like it here do you?" Jareth asked when he reached her side.

Sarah nodded emphatically as she slowed to a walk. "I've found something to like about every place we've been," she told him cheerfully, not yet willing to admit that being with him was that something.

"Even at Ranofyr's?" the king asked surprised.

"Aesthetically it's a wonderful place."

"Suppose I needn't ask what you find so charming about the southeast."

Sarah's eyes filled with hurt, her lip quivering as she queried, "How could you say that? After everything he did, the things I did."

Jareth's leather gloves wrapped around her shoulders, "I was talking about Hoggle." He watched helplessly as the tears began to fall. "Sarah, what happened with Tiberon was a horrible thing, something I wish you hadn't experienced, something I wish was in my power to undo." Slowly his palms began to stroke her arms.

"It's a horrible thing that I brought on. I should have just listened to you when you told me not to visit him." Sarah refused to meet the Goblin King's stare which kept her from noticing her heartbreak reflected on his face.

"Sarah, none of what happened was your fault. Tiberon took advantage of your compassion. He had absolutely no right to do what he did, and neither did Maeve."

"But I pushed the issue. I fought you to allow me to have dinner with him, I let him dance that way with me and when he kissed me, I kissed back." Sarah turned away from the Goblin King.

Though he didn't admit it, her confession was like a kick in his stomach, but as it had always been he forgot his own pain when he heard her whimpering. "Sarah," he called to her calmly.

"I'm no better than Maeve. Just when I think you might really be starting to like me and I do exactly what she did. All these years I've tried to convince myself that I deserved something better than Christian when the truth is, we're birds of a feather."

Rather than spin her around to face him, Jareth stepped before her. The forefinger of his left hand chucked the underside of her chin. "Sarah. You are better than Maeve, much better in a hundred or more ways. The truth is even if you had slept with Tiberon, which you did not," he reiterated for both their peaces of mind, "You still couldn't have betrayed me the way she did. She professed her love to me and then threw it all away in a moment of personal gratification. You have never professed anything to me," although the king wished very much she had. "You were under the influence of some very powerful magics. Nothing you did was within your control."

"It sure felt like it was."

His finger pressed her lips closed before he went on, "Nothing you did was within your control." Staring deep into her watery eyes he felt some of his hesitation melt away. She must feel something for him, if she was this upset at the idea of having hurt him. Jareth pulled away his finger and placed his lips lightly against Sarah's "Now no more talk of you being like Maeve or Christian or anyone else. You are Sarah Williams, an individual, unlike any other in my world or in yours, and I like you just fine, precisely as you are."

She smiled, a soft short smile that wanted to consume her whole face, but she fought it back. "You do?" Jareth nodded. That wasn't so hard. "You don't act like it sometimes." Of course, she'd made it difficult.

"Oh for the love of a pixie Sarah, would you please learn to take a compliment. I like you. I like having you here, I like spending time with you, I usually enjoy talking to you." Who was making him say these things. Suddenly he'd become a puppet, his jaws flapping as he uttered things he had no intention of saying. He reclaimed control, "But I'm still king. I still have appearances to keep up."

"And being mean to me, is that part of your appearances?"

"I'm not mean." Her eyes fell upon him sharply, "Not always. There have been times when I have been incredibly gentle with you."

"That's another thing. I lied, Jareth." His eyebrow went up in curiosity. "I lied when I told you sometimes, sex was just sex. For some people maybe, but not for me. I don't just traipse off into the forest with every attractive man I see."

"So you find me attractive," modesty was not the king's best quality.

"You know I do. We talked about that. But it's more than that."

"More?" He was feeling particularly hopeful at this.

"I don't know. I mean, I've grown to trust you. I think of you," her head screamed, 'constantly', but her lips said, "as someone I can trust, like an older brother. Someone who watches out for me."

"As a brother," his face hung with disappointment. "Well I'm glad you feel like you can trust me."

"I wouldn't have done those thing with you otherwise. I know I shouldn't have, but I was feeling this tension between us Jareth and that's why I'm telling you this now. I don't want us to have that tension anymore." She thought of Arulan. Sarah had to do this for her. She deserved the king's loyalties and Sarah coming back Underground had ruined that. "I want us to get along."

"If you somehow felt that I pressured you into the things we did Sarah, I apologize," the king's head hung, his hands engulfing the hands of his mortal, as much honesty as he had coating his words. "It was never my intention to take advantage of your attraction to me in order to force you into our sleeping together."

"I never thought you did Jareth. I'm just saying that I respect what you've established for yourself Underground and I would never want to do anything that could damage it. A relationship between you and I could be," 'the most fabulous thing to ever happen to me,' Sarah thought. After a small pause she remembered she'd left her sentence incomplete "complicated."

"Isn't it already?" Jareth asked.

"You said yourself we have no relationship."

"I said what I said in anger. Any two beings who come in contact with each other have a relationship. Even if they're merely acquaintances. I thought you said you wanted us to be friends. Is that no longer the way you feel?" He waited for her to tell him he would loose this too, as he felt he'd lost everything else.

Sarah wiped the last of the tears from her eyes, "Friends? Of course we're friends. That's my point. Even though I found both you and Tiberon attractive Jareth, certain things happened between the two of us because I thought of you as a friend, someone I could turn to for comfort. I never felt that with Tiberon."

Greater devastation had not been known than to hear her compare him to the Representative. Jareth straightened his spine. "The only reason you were even attracted to Tiberon in the first place was because he used magic on you. It's no wonder you found no solace in him." For a moment neither of them spoke. Wishing now he'd have ignored Gandor's suggestion, Jareth rushed her off, "Go on, I know your anxious to get to the shop."

"Aren't you coming?"

"I don't think so," he said glumly.

"But what will you do while I'm with them?"

Mismatched eyes burrowed into her, "You may find this hard to believe, but I have been able to amuse myself a time or two while you weren't around." Without objection, Sarah turned and left. From the look she gave him before her departure, it became apparent heeding Gandor's advice would not be Jareth's only regret today.

For a time, the king milled about in the snow. Arulan had helped him figure out exactly how he would reveal his love to her. What was there to confess now. Each time Jareth parted his lips to speak to her he made the situation worse. Now he thought he was just a compassionate, protective sibling in her eyes. Reaching to the frozen ground below, Jareth fashioned a snowball. Angrily, he launched it at a tree trunk. It splattered flatly, as had his heart.

"Nothing's worth this!" he cried into the cerulean sky that seemed to mock him. "Not a woman alive of any species knows a thing about what she really wants, not even when it comes crawling to her."

Jareth didn't remember how he came to kneel in the snow; however, he'd become quite aware of a flat hand against his back and the winds seemed to speak to him, "Some things never change." When the king spun his head around he saw the gentle eyes he remembered from his childhood. Every year at this time, he would come to the Southwest, to join in all the hectic readying for the holiday season. Every year he'd sit at the feet of the man he gazed upon now and listen intently as the man would weave a yarn of tomorrows yet to come. 'Some day,' it began identically each time, 'you will be king..."

"Was a woman that changed me, was a woman who changed your grandfather, a woman who changed your father and a woman who changes you, son." Jareth stood. "What now, not even a hug for your great grandad?" Lovingly, the new king folded his arms around the former king, pulling him close. Oberon's hand patted at Jareth's back in heavy thumps, "My boy, how you've grown."

"I was 74 the last time you saw me."

"Yes, but you've been by since then. Gwendolyn told me of your visits."

Never in all the years he came here asking what he could do for his great grandparents, did Jareth tell anyone that Oberon had refused to see him. He'd had such a great relationship with the former king before he was groomed for the throne. Jareth expected Oberon believed that once the throne claimed his grandson, the evil which had reached up to claim his son would somehow capture him as well. "Why have you refused me all these years?"

"Refused you? I haven't refused you. I've been expecting my son to speak through your lips, his cold heart to somehow beat within your chest."

"Darien loves the evil parts of himself too much to share them with anyone else. Of all the creatures in this world I would think you, most of all, would know just how big a problem he has with sharing anything."

Oberon let out a deep chuckle, "Too true. I was a fool. Gandor pointed that out to me just this afternoon."

"Did he?" Jareth asked with great interest.

The former king nodded, "Forgive me son, but I made a mistake turning away from you. And if you'll have me, I would crawl back into your grace on my knees your majesty." Oberon knelt before his great grandson, tears in his eyes."

"On your feet old man," Jareth spat down at him. When Oberon was standing on his feet once more, Jareth's eyes softened on him, "No king of the Underground, past or present, begs for anything, not even forgiveness." Once more he took his grandfather into his arms and held him there. "You are my only flesh and blood, least the only I would lay claim to." Jareth cleared his throat. Feeling intense emotions welling inside him, he held Oberon at arm's length and asked, "So it was Gandor who sent you looking for me then?"

"Yes," he admitted as he wiped the tears from his eyes. "He said he'd asked you to visit me tomorrow with a special young lady and I couldn't help feeling we'd need to bury this axe before that could happen."

"How do you do that?" Jareth asked amazed by how freely Oberon displayed his emotions.

"What?" he watched his grandson nod as he wiped away another tear. "Cry? Oh my son, I've cried so many times I've long since forgotten the shame in it."

"But you were a great king, how did you manage your subjects respect while showing such weakness?"

"Forgive me if I sound antiquated," Oberon told him, "but the Underground was a far different place when I was chosen for the throne. Appearances didn't mean as much. We followed custom, we did as we were told and as we were asked. We had a respect for the law and that earned us the respect of our subjects. Since," he choked a little as he spoke these next words, "Corwyn lost the throne, it has become a quest to gain the fear of the subjects in the Underground more so than their respect."

"You mean since Darien took over?"

"I prefer not to think of him. You're mother tried very much to undo him. She was a passionate woman who fell in love with a good man. You know that right?" Jareth nodded. "It's a shame what happened to Ian, a shame you didn't get to see the amazing couple they were together. She was magnificent and he only enhanced her. It was as if there'd been a beacon added to the castle. Your mother was not always the sad and empty woman you might remember."

"Please grandfather, don't justify her to me."

"See here, I'm doing no such thing. She loved you Jareth, loved you as purely as she'd loved your father."

"She never even held me!"

Oberon put his arm around the king, "Walk with me son, let me tell you a story of a true and honest love that a fey was terrified to admit to and the pain that it caused. It's a story I'm certain you'll be able to relate to."

Sarah came walking up to the castle doors at the same time Jareth did. "Back for dinner?" she asked him trying to make pleasant conversation.

"Of course," the king admitted. "Didn't feel right making Gandor come to collect us after he gave us the better part of the day to do as we pleased."

"Right, me either," Sarah agreed. Only she hadn't thought of that until he'd just said it now. She'd been at the shop the last hour or so waiting for seven o'clock to roll around so she could see Jareth again. Sarah hated the way they had left things.

Precisely at seven, Gandor opened the castle doors and drew in a breath of surprise when he found both his house guests waiting for him. "Well, look at you two, home just in time for dinner. Don't just stand there, come on in." Gandor led them to the dining room where a feast awaited them. Jareth pulled out Sarah's chair for her. She smiled and whispered a low 'thank you' before taking her seat. The Representative carved the turkey while Jareth and Sarah passed the side dishes back and forth. Out of respect, Sarah made up Gandor's plate. "So how was the shop today?" the Representative asked as he took his seat at the head of the table. "Sarah, thank you," he said when he noticed his plate.

"You're welcome. The shop was busy. I had no idea so much work went into Christmas. They said they've been preparing since March and there's still a ton of last minute things they need to wrap up." Jareth chuckled. "What's so funny?" Sarah asked.

"Think about what you just said."

She mouthed the words as she replayed them in her head, '...last minute things to wrap...' "Oh," she did not join him in laughter, although the Representative did once he caught on. "I wasn't even thinking...I just meant there's a lot left to finish."

Jareth sipped his wine, "It's okay. I knew what you meant. I just found it to be a bit amusing."

Gandor sensed the tension between them and immediately took control of the conversation, "So Jareth, have you decided to take me up on my offer?"

"To which offer are you referring?"

"Why my offer to stay that extra day, of course?"

"Of course," the king drawled. "Well I suppose that depends on Sarah." The mortal looked up at the mention of her name suddenly very interested in the conversation. "Would you like to stay another day?"

"Can I visit the shop again?" she asked anxiously.

Jareth's face turned down, "I'm afraid if you decide to stay there are other matters to which I would expect..." Under the table, Gandor kicked him squarely in the shin, "Excuse me. Matters to which I would hope you might attend."

"Which matters might those be?"

"There is someone I need to see, someone who I think would enjoy meeting you," he told her.

"Who might that be?" she continued with a seemingly endless string of questions.

Gandor moved to answer her inquiry only to receive the same blunt boot which he had delivered earlier from the fey who sat to his right. "The question posed is not to whom we shall visit milady, the question posed is shall you stay on one day more?"

Narrowing her eyes at him, Sarah displayed a fraction of the contempt she had for that poker face that could slide so easily over the king making him nearly impossible to interpret. "Very well then, we'll stay regardless of where you plan on taking me."

"Good, in that case Gandor, the lady and I graciously accept your invitation to another evening's hospitality."

"I had a feeling you might," Gandor turned himself to face Jareth completely before he grinned at him with knowing.

"I don't understand why you can't just tell me where we're going?" Sarah asked as they marched through the snow. While she might not have known where they were going, she knew they were headed south from the shop because of the great puffs of smoke in the sky behind them.

Jareth huffed. "If I live to be a thousand I will never understand women. You want to be surprised, given trinkets and thought of out of the blue, special arrangements made for your pleasing and yet, when the opportunity for astonishment presents itself to you, you would rather know the details in advance. How is that?"

"I don't understand a damn word you've just said."

"In short love, women are a contradiction for which I have yet to, nor do I think I shall ever, find a solution."

Sarah grew angry at his remark. "Why do you do that?"

With a sigh the king asked, "What have I done now?"

"We were having a perfectly fine time until you began insulting me."

Eyebrows furrowing in confusion Jareth replied, "But I haven't insulted you."

"You insulted women, a group of which I happen to be a member and ergo, you have insulted me." Sarah stopped in her tracks and crossed her arms.

Jareth closed in on her, matching her edge with stiff posture and a stern look. His head sunk to match her level, his nose so close to hers she could feel his breath against her lips. Sarah's eyes flickered from his eyes to his lips, as they did each time he got within this distance, as her head rocked back ready and eager to accept his mouth. To her dismay, Jareth growled down at her, "A brother doesn't look upon his sister as a woman milady, in fact she appears to him as a completely asexual being whose only purpose is for him to torment and frustrate." His fingers swept across her left temple, cascading down the side of her neck, across her collarbone to the hollow of her throat before dipping over her breastbone. Jareth's eyes followed the path his fingers took until he saw a quick rise in her chest as Sarah drew a hasty breath. His eyes snapped up to meet hers, "Do I torment you Sarah? Do I make you frustrated?"

"I should say...not." Sure she had intended to be cold, but with her blood speeding up it's travel through her veins and so little of it left in her head, it came out more breathless than anything. 'Damn,' she thought.

"Right," he eyed her up and down in suspicion of her sincerity. "Well then let's get a move on, shall we?"

"If we are ever to get wherever we're going, I suppose we shall."

"After you then," he waved an arm in the direction she should head. Watching her walk on, her seat covered by black breeches, he couldn't resist commenting, "Lovely view in these parts, eh?"

"Indeed," Sarah agreed her eyes focused on the mountains and the pale white clouds which dotted the immense blue sky. 'How like the eyes of the king,' she thought.

Another quarter mile or so and from behind her came his orders, "Just ahead on your left."

It was a modest dwelling, designed much like some of the homes from her world only built more with the primitive makings of a cabin rather than the sound structure of a modern house. "Quaint," she said.

"Yes, it rather is. Nevertheless, that's where we are headed."

"I'm not saying there's anything wrong with it being quaint." Something in his tone gave her the distinct impression that he thought she was somehow disenchanted with a home that wasn't made of sand or ice or the other spectacular castles in which she had stayed.

"I'm not saying that you are."

"But you had a tone."

"Does one's voice not always bear some tone milady, otherwise I would be mute or you would be deaf. The choice is yours." He knew the meaning of the accusation Sarah leveled at him, but Jareth had discovered how much fun toying with her was and he wasn't about to allow fun to pass him by.

"Your incorrigible, do you know that?"

"No, but hum a few bars for me and I'll join in for the chorus." Sarah glowered at him, daggers streaming from her eyes. "Now be polite or I won't introduce you to the nice folks inside." Without even noticing, Jareth had walked Sarah up to the front door of the dwelling. His gloved knuckles folded over the door knocker, lifted it several inches and brought it back to meet the metal plate below then lifted and dropped the weight two more times.

Shortly afterward a gentle looking older woman, who appeared to Sarah to be fey from what she had learned in her stay Underground, answered the door. "Jareth," she spoke quickly, in a warm voice. "You came. He said you would, said you'd been talking yesterday and that everything was... Let's not dwell on the yesterdays when we have so many tomorrows to look forward to. Am I right? I'm only glad to see you at our door. Your grandfather is waiting inside for you." With that the woman took the king into her arms. From behind Jareth, Sarah watched the woman's eyes close as she squeezed him tightly in her embrace. Moments later, she lifted her lids having grown uncomfortable with feelings of being watched. Sarah couldn't help but notice the woman's eyes were wet. "Heavens me, I hadn't realized you were bringing a guest."

"My name is Sarah," she introduced herself as she extended a hand to the woman.

Smiling at her, she left Jareth's hold and stood before the mortal, "Sarah Williams. The legend from Aboveground. It is an honor to make your acquaintance miss."

"I would say the same, but I have yet to make yours."

Chuckling softly, the older woman smiled before introducing herself. "I am Queen Gwendolyn, Jareth's great grandmother, but you can call me as he once did."

"Please don't mention these things," Jareth pleaded.

"Nanny grand." There you have it. "Don't you remember?" Her wrinkled hand pinched a roll of his cheek between forefinger and thumb. "Cute as Dickens this one was. Couldn't much figure out his family tree and that was no surprise given..."

"Given that I was not a very bright child."

"Like a cat's whiskers you weren't bright. Most curious little imp I've seen in some hundreds of years, since my boy was a boy." Jareth knew by the far away glint in her eye that it was not Darien to whom she referred. "I'd find him hiding in the most unusual places," she went on. "'Nanny grand,' he would call out. I'll give you to the count of ten to find me. 'Only ten?' I'd ask, making it seem like some horribly inadequate period of time. 'Oh, okay, for you thirteen.' Always thirteen. I'd turn my back for a bit and then go in search of him only to find him beneath the bed or tucked in a cupboard. After a time he got more creative. Shimming up the curtains and perching himself upon the curtain rods in complete silence until I would give up and cry out for him to show himself before I called his poppy."

"Poppy?" Sarah asked.

"My yes, that's how he called his great grandfather. Jareth loved mischief, but never at the expense of upsetting his poppy." Gwendolyn looked at the king admiringly, "Such a good boy you were."

"Were?" he asked.

"Are," she corrected. "You know I meant are, you are a good boy, who is forever welcome here." Gwendolyn turned back to Sarah, "Enough then, come in and meet my husband."

"Yes ma'am." Sarah received a stern look at the formality with which she had addressed the former queen. "I mean yes nanny grand."

As Jareth filed in behind the mortal, Gwendolyn tugged his flouncy sleeve, "Fine girl this one is Jareth. Fine indeed."

"Wait till you get to know her," he muttered.

Oberon was inside, sitting in his favorite easy chair, a fey stem hung from his lips beneath a thin white mustache and a full thick beard. "As I live and breathe, the legend in my own home," he remarked when he saw Sarah come through the door. "It is my honor, miss, to have you here with us. Welcome." The former king's wrinkled hands engulfed Sarah's dainty fingers. Right away she noticed the warmth which came from him.

"The first king of the Underground, the first queen," the mortal eyed them back and forth in amazement. "It is I who is honored to meet the two of you. I've seen, I mean heard so much about you."

"Lies," Oberon told her, "all lies." He laughed at his own joke. "Now have a seat and we'll set to evening the score. You can tell us all about you."

Gwendolyn poured them all some tea and the foursome sat around the family room and talked about Sarah's time thus far spent in the Underground. "But really, enough about me," Sarah objected. "I'd much rather hear about what it's like to be a royal."

Gwendolyn chuckled behind her frail fingers. "Lo that I could tell you dear." Sarah looked at her confused. She had been queen, had she not? "You see, I was but a maid when Oberon and I met." That's right, now Sarah remembered. Atofina had told her about how she had to train Gwendolyn. "That's the funniest thing, there's yet to be one true royal couple leading the Underground. I was a commoner, that made our children half commoner. Then Darien was made to marry a true royal and Jareth's mother was born three-quarters royal blood. The Triumvirate was very happy anticipating that she would marry a full blood and give the Underground the closest thing to a truly royal king it had ever seen, but alas..."

Quickly, Jareth jumped in to cut her off, "I was born to a common father." Gwendolyn looked at him puzzled. "My mother found herself in love with a man that the Triumvirate did not approve of. While they were too late to stop my mother, they've since altered their rules to be certain that I can never have the same kind of marriage she did." He wasn't ready to admit to her that he was part mortal. Although, the Triumvirate had long ago christened him fey and taken away his human soul to replace it with the one he now had, well mostly had, Jareth still experienced some human qualities. Retained qualities that were both a blessing and a curse, a handful of mortal emotions that sometimes got the better of him, a stronger tolerance to iron than most fey. He wondered if his residual mortality wasn't part of what made him love Sarah the way he did.

"What on Earth are you talking about?" Gwendolyn asked surprised by his outburst.

"It's true mother," Oberon chimed in, confident he understood Jareth's hesitation. "They've rewritten the law so that a marriage like Leanan and Ian's could never happen again."

Finally the former queen caught on. "I see. Well all the other laws of the Underground have been broken, I'm sure it's just a matter of time before someone gets around to breaking that one too."


End file.
